


Juda

by flowersforlukey



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Ambiguous Relationships, Angst, Cardiomyopathy, Heart Attacks, Hospitals, M/M, Terminal Illnesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-03-01 12:58:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 86,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18800830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowersforlukey/pseuds/flowersforlukey
Summary: Responsibility has never sat well with Thor, especially on occasions where he is left to take care of his younger brother. And young and frail the boy he was, Loki grows up a sickly child, inheriting the defects brought by a terminal cardiovascular disease he has long accepted to be his life-long companion.Both men have fallen adrift from years and years of negligence, but Thor finds himself recoiling back to his brother when Loki’s chance at life proves to behopeless.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Oh dear. I guess I'm back with the angsty brotherly relationship between our two favorite siblings. I'll try to keep chapters long but chapter number shorter. I'm really looking forward to sharing this short emotional journey with you.
> 
> Anyway, I'm sorry in advance for what this will bring forth. It's a hospital fic anyway; I guarantee you'll see crying and screaming of all sorts. Loki's sick here. Let's all just empathize with Thor, shall we?
> 
> A brief overview of Loki's condition:
> 
>  _ **[Hypertrophic cardiomyopathy (HCM)](https://my.clevelandclinic.org/health/diseases/17116-hypertrophic-cardiomyopathy)**_ \- A portion of the heart becomes thickened without an obvious cause and the heart is less able to pump blood effectively.
> 
> You can find the artwork I created for this fic below. I hope to hear your thoughts! :)
> 
> Enjoy!

 

 

“Is this the last one?” Thor asks.  _Atenolol_ , reads the bottle in his hand. They’re Loki’s pills, blockers to be exact. Thor remembers seeing his brother take two of them a day.

Loki hums, occupied in his trance as he reaches for the oxygen tank by the bed. “See that it’s completely sealed before I put that away.”

They’re sat on either side of the Loki’s room, unzipped bags sprawled across the floor. Last night, their parents had decided on driving to Southern Georgia to spend the weekend. It’s been three hours since their parents left, and Thor and Loki are supposed to be on their way by now. Instead, they’re reduced to packing the rest of Loki’s bags.

“Atenolol, a dosage of 25 milligrams. Are you  _sure_  this is how much your physician prescribed last week?”

From where he’s fumbling with the drawers of the nightstand, Loki spares his brother a glance before retrieving the nasal cannula. Two silicon tubes are inserted into his nostrils which he then connects to the tank. Thor is contemplative as he watches.

“You keep forgetting that my dosage gets lower as I get better.”

“Yeah, but this one’s a huge drop,” Thor protests; it used to be as high as 100 milligrams. But the bottle in his hand is now half-empty, and he can’t actually remember the last time Loki had taken pills this few.

“You don’t trust my doctor as I do,” Loki says, and urges his brother to hand the bottle over. “Do hurry up, Thor. We’re half an hour late.”

“Right.”

Something doesn’t add up.

Thor surrenders the bottle to Loki, swallowing his mislaid worry down. And Loki may be all sorts of things— _ill_  to be unfairly specific—but being an idiot isn’t one of them. This is the one things Frigga had warned Thor about before leaving for the countryside that morning.

"The travel may tire him _,"_ she had pointed out. "So I’m leaving you the responsibility to help. You know how he is… your brother. When he’s having his complications."

And the said complications, Thor could list down. One of them is a memory so fresh since the day it happened: Thor finding himself sitting inside the principal’s office, listening to the middle-aged woman as she briefly informed him about Loki's accident.

_Your brother fell. He’s brought into the clinic, but his condition appears… chancy._

Loki, only eight, had run down the bleachers to a PE class he was already late to. But at the last step, he lost his footing. His breathing falling short and quick, legs giving out at the last second. It was his coach that found him lying limp on the grass.

When Thor had been called in by the principal that day, his face grew pale in fear he had caused some minor trouble without really meaning to. Upon finding out that it was his brother’s condition that caused the commotion, Thor had learnt how to see through the cracks between situations he could neither control nor predict, pick out the smallest signs that might just warn him of worse possibilities.

Since then, he’d learnt how to notice and just outright  _worry._

His chest feels heavy as he paces. Thor fumbles around their things, intentionally stirring his head away from the mislaid concern that's making him anxious. Something so disconcerting should not come up while he is alone with Loki.

“I’m bringing your stuff to the car,” Thor announces.

Thankfully, Loki follows him outside with a share of their luggage in one arm and the portable oxygen tank in the other. They lock the door, pile their stuff in the backseat, and roll across the highway.

 _Just a two-hour drive_ , Thor reminds himself. Somehow, the sight of his brother pulling his legs over the glove compartment provides the least amount of reassurance he might possibly need.

“Long weekend ahead, brother,” Loki starts, filling the silence that stretched far too long. “Any big plans ahead?”

“Plans,” echoes Thor.

“I don’t know, drinking, being dad’s farming buddy at the vineyard,” Loki lists. “Meeting up with old acquaintances whom your always cheery-self cannot seem for the love of _god_ forget.”

Thor chuckles warmly. A vague sight indeed. The hands gripping the wheel loosen slowly as the tension in his stomach begins uncoiling.

“Always twelve steps ahead of me.”

“What can I say?” Loki shrugs visibly. “I can’t actually get into your head and see how you wish to waste the weekend.”

They drive past a gas station, and Thor regrets not bringing a soda or two. He glances at the rear-view mirror. No vehicles trailing behind, little to no speed-limit signs coming into view. He could probably step on the accelerator to reduce their travel time.

This is good, this managing-a-harmless-conversation-for-five-minutes act he’s playing with his brother. Despite the tinge of discomfort gnawing at his insides, Thor convinces himself that they’re doing fine. That  _he’s_ doing fine. And that it shouldn’t be a problem to spend the next few hours talking about how they likely wouldn’t be able to successfully ignore each other this weekend. Thor has only ever been uncomfortable because Loki started hiding secrets after he got sick, eventually taking the road of speaking to Thor less and less in a way which made Thor think he has the plague or something.

The process has been a gradual one, where midnights spent sneaking into the kitchen and snitching the jar of cookies were instead replaced by Loki staying weeks either in the hospital or in his room, and Thor not feeling hyped about visiting at all for the fear he would fail to attend to his brother’s needs.

They have a whole weekend ahead of them. Thor both dreads and anticipates whatever it is that would come out of the two days they will be forced to spend together. Loki, at the moment, is basically recovering, and Thor feels like a jerk to wish that his brother would be able to handle himself without his presence so that Thor may be able to do the things he was hoping to do without making it look like he’s avoiding Loki.

“I guess my plans are reduced to sleeping all weekend.”

Loki throws him a look, the corners of his mouth hinting a grin.

“How unfortunately pitiful,” he says. “I’d rather you do something equally eventful as camping and bringing the stallions to a ride. The months I’ve spent grooming Svadilfari, I don’t wish to waste. Tend to the horses if you want. Dad would probably prefer seeing you useless in the stables than picking fights in the bar.”

“Hey,” Thor chides. “I don’t use my hands when picking fights.”

“Says the jock.”

“Whatever.” They turn to a freeway, rounding a sign that reads the next town. Thor grins, trying to goad his brother. “So camping and riding, I see. And you call  _me_  the spontaneous one.”

Loki doesn’t answer. Thor figures he could give his brother some time. There are times where Loki would initiate a harmless banter between the two of them, which Thor would gladly turn into a continuous conversation if he’s feeling quite lucky. Now, it feels like a bomb that is bound to explode. A thin sheet of ice that he has to shatter in order to walk through a solid ground of grass. Any moment now, Loki would respond to his last humoured accusation, and Thor would laugh and actually try to shove his brother’s shoulder just for the fun of it.

Only that the silence has stretched far too long and Thor’s patience has begun dwindling.

He looks to his right, his grin falters.

Loki's head is facing toward the window, hidden from Thor's view as Thor begins inspecting the thick layer of sweat glistening against Loki’s neck. The subtle rise and fall of Loki's chest are quick,  _too_  quick to appear normal. Loki  _should_  be breathing normally, but there’s a dangling silicon of the nasal cannula on his cheek where it should be stuck inside his nostrils. It sets off an alarm that makes Thor sit up a little straighter.

“Loki,” he tries, panic clouding his head. There are too many cars buzzing with static, white noise that makes Thor lose his focus. He cannot think or see clearly. Panic becomes him, he doesn't know where to focus. It’s either the car or Loki.

Managing to continue driving straight, Thor steals a glimpse at his brother’s figure at a millisecond’s speed. It’s swift, but he sees enough.

Loki’s body is stiff against the passenger door, no sign of voluntary movement. Thor listens; Loki’s breathing is ragged, quick. Still conscious.

Suddenly, it’s all too hot inside the car. Thor swerves from lane to lane and pulls over at the sidewalk. He rushes to his brother’s side, pulling the door open and finding Loki quietly gasping for air.

The oxygen tank hadn't been within Loki's reach. Thor scrambles to reach across the center console, pulling the thing from where it was hidden and returns the silicon tubes from where they had fallen against Loki’s cheek.

“Breathe,” he instructs, supporting Loki’s head with a trembling hand underneath his chin. Loki inhales for a little over three rounds before he grows unconscious, eyes falling shut. Unresponsive.

“Shit, Loki.” Thor brackets Loki with his arms, cradling his brother’s head. He's panicking because this hasn't happened in a long time. As he shakes Loki’s shoulders, his hands tremble, but his brother doesn't stir. Why he still isn’t moving, Thor doesn’t know, and he contemplates calling Frigga and Odin as a last resort because if Loki doesn't wake up soon, Thor is going to lose it. They  _should_ be here, but they’re not, and Thor isn’t trained enough to fully understand how to deal with this.

With fear at the pit of his stomach, he rationalizes on calling an ambulance. Loki looks unnervingly pale in his arms.

However, when the paramedics rush Loki into the emergency room, Thor is blocked by two nurses.

“The patient’s parents are the only ones allowed in the room, sir.”

“I’m his  _brother._ ”

It’s stupid, Thor knows it is. Between the infuriating resistance of the nurses hovering by the double-doors and the sirens of the ambulance outside slowly fading into static, the slow torment of constant flickering florescent tubes is slowly getting to him. The hallway is crowded at this time of the day yet Thor contemplates actually busting his fist into the wall next to the nurses as he  _doesn’t_ have time for such stupid queries.

“My apologies, it is as per the physician’s request.”

 _Stupid _,__  Thor thinks again.  _You weren’t paying attention enough. Loki was practically heaving in there and you did nothing when you could have opened the fucking windows!_

Thor is beyond guilty about the little knowledge he has over his brother’s condition. He couldn’t even get the damn thing right when he inserted the nasal cannula into Loki’s nose and his brother  _still_  failed to breathe properly. Where does the fault lie now?

“Thor!” It’s Frigga. Thor had called her immediately upon boarding the ambulance. She wears evident signs of distress when she approaches with warm awaiting arms. Thor finds himself drowning in them.

“What happened, darling?”

“I don’t know. We just left downtown when he suddenly stopped moving."

“The tank… was it attached?”

He’s  _shaking._

“No… I don’t know, mom, but  _I_ attached it and Loki was breathing through his nose until—”

“Thor, you did well.”

“It  _had_  to be his heart. He was breathing fine! I—”

“Thor,” Frigga says, in finality. Thor could only hope she does not sense the uproar inside his head. But she does, and she always will. She’s his mother after all.

And under her empathetic gaze does he only break apart, his brain flooding with images of his brother lying almost lifelessly in his arms, a reminder of his first and only attempt in actually  _helping_ just outright failing.

“You did well, my darling.”

**…**

It’s Frigga who first steps inside.

 _He’d be awake _,__  the man had said, when Thor found a purpose to end his restless waiting by trudging straight to his brother’s doctor and asking what he should expect the moment their visit is permitted.  _Your brother’s condition should not be overlooked. He’s only passed out this long because the lack of oxygen took a toll on him._

Although the permission had been heard loud and clear in the doctor’s rather inviting courtesy, Thor decided that he was ill-prepared for the wrath he might find himself facing the moment the doors are opened to him and Loki would no longer appear restless. It’s a ridiculous notion, one that Frigga dismisses with a sigh of weariness, nonetheless happy to lead the way towards the private ward.

The door creaks. Loki looks up from the bed at the sound, sighing at the sight of Frigga. Tilts his head as much as his fatigue body allows him, meets Thor’s eyes.

Thor holds his gaze. He doesn’t say anything.

“Oh, Loki.” Frigga crosses the room to hug her son. Thor watches, takes note of the way Loki clings to her a second longer. Frigga pulls away. “I’m sorry for not being there. When your brother called, my mind fell restless. I was so worried.”

“Don’t be,” Loki tells her and offers nothing more. When Frigga speaks of the emotions that seem to overwhelm her, it is Loki who talks her out of them all the same, but he is not usually as blunt as he is now, nor does he cut his answers short. “Where’s dad?”

Frigga almost looks sorry, and Thor figures out that she doesn’t have so much as an answer even before she sighs.

A knock on the door allows Thor a second to breathe. Loki’s doctor enters. It’s a different one from the past seeing as they’d been rushed to a hospital much closer to their location.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Odinson. How does your chest feel?”

“Lighter, it seems.”

“That is good to hear.” He stands nearly with a regal stance that could be picked off from feet away, a feature the goes firmly with the white coat and sharp but no less friendly demeanor he carries. He extends a hand toward Frigga. “You must be Loki’s mother. I’m doctor Heimdall, your son’s acting cardiologist.”

“Away with formalities,” Frigga says, shaking his hand. “Thank you for helping my son.”

“Not at all.” His eyes sparkle at Thor. “You must be…?”

“Thor, Loki’s older brother.” He shakes Dr. Heimdall’s hand, with more force necessary. Still, Thor cannot seem to wrap his head around the recent and far too incomprehensible disclosure he’s just heard from the man himself. “I’m sorry, but what  _about_  Loki’s chest?”

“Ah.” Dr. Heimdall pulls away from the contact and fixes a firm gaze upon Thor. “I’m sure you’ve warmed up to the knowledge of your brother’s case of hypertrophic cardiomyopathy?”

“Eleven years since his diagnosis, yes.” Thor can’t help but fix his brother with a wary look. Loki’s eyes are sunken, cheeks hollowed out and so very pale. “Go on.”

“Well, for eleven years, his medication and maintenance helped greatly, obviously.” Dr. Heimdall rounds the bed the same time Frigga moves to sit beside Loki and place her hand over his. “Though, in my case, there’s been a slip-up in your medication, Loki. What was your first dosage for beta blockers?”

Loki, clearly still lightheaded, allows Frigga to answer for him.

“50 milligrams of atenolol tablets taken twice a day. He was only seven.”

“Did his physician prescribe anything else?”

“Not that I know of. Loki has stuck to atenolol over these years, and yet, I don’t know what has gone wrong this time.”

“When we go into specifics, his medication may have retained but his dosages would have varied eventually.” Dr. Heimdall opens his palm to reveal a vial of tablets. “What's his dosage now?”

Frigga looks to Loki, apparently unaware of the answer herself.

“25 milligrams,” says Loki.

It’s only silence that follows. Dr. Heimdall has taken to scribbling something across his clipboard and Thor wills himself to stay calm as he anticipates another round of disconcerting medical talk between the three. Loki seems out of place himself, and Thor cannot help but purposely meet his eye.

“It was too low.” He’s addressing Loki.

“What?”

“Your dosage last week,” Thor elaborates, his eyes unwavering at Loki who has by all means worn the exact pretence of confusion. “It was too low.”

Loki only  _scoffs _.__  “Your analysis is admirable but—”

“I will take your observation into account, Thor.”

It’s the doctor speaking now, appearing to have finished with his notes. Even Loki silences himself completely, though not without glaring at Thor. Dr. Heimdall continues to speak of the rest.

“The risks brought upon by your brother’s condition have reduced to what little discomfort he’s felt since, but that is not the case today,” Dr. Heimdall explains. “Despite what seems to be a low dosage, 25 milligrams is actually more than what his body can receive. Your brother has apparently overdosed on atenolol.”

Static rings clear.

“Overdose,” echoes Loki, after a beat. His head is hung low, lips loop-sided and contemplative at the disclosure as if he finds the statement ridiculous in its very nature, which it  _is _.__

Thor scans the doctor’s neutral expression in hopes of finding any sign of hesitance and deception. There is none.

“How?”

“I assume you go to school,” Dr. Heimdall directs at Loki. “You exhaust your body simply by taking trips to your school and back. You converse with people, walk at lengths with your very endurance, exert effort in pretty much  _anything_ , to a point where the exhaustion you gain from your daily activities has become normal.”

Thor does not seem moved.

“What happened to his medications then?”

“Mistaken calculations—a speculation at best,” says Dr. Heimdall. “Your brother’s body has grown accustomed to the exhaustion he feels; the decrease of his strength is eventually considered normal, but his pills react differently still. Because of this, the amount of pills he’s taken disregards the recent changes of his body, thus leading to his overdose, where his body receives more than the number of pills necessary.”

Thor  _tries_  to digest the information. Really, he does. It’s only made much more challenging for him to find the doctor’s explanation understandable when Loki appears to be just as confused as he is.

“Mr. Odinson’s medication will be modified shortly,” Dr. Heimdall is quick to reassure them, perhaps sensing the silent uproar within the three.

“And his chest?”

Thor is not excused from the glare that Loki sends him at the question.

“His lungs are stable, no fluid, no irregularities. Though he will experience mild fatigue, his vitals are normal. But your brother’s heart…” Dr. Heimdall pauses, his good pair of eyes fixed on Thor. “It’s pumping so little blood because of the overdose.”

“Doctor.” As expected, it is Frigga who goes on pleading. “How will my son recover?”

“Your son is scheduled for an echo-cardiogram tonight.” Dr. Heimdall tears a page from his clipboard and places it atop the nightstand. “We’ll run some scans of his chest, take two nights of observation, and afterwards, we can discuss your son’s medication.”

“Alright,” nods Frigga. She looks wary, to say the least. Thor doesn’t really blame her. “Thank you, doctor.”

“You’re welcome.” Dr. Heimdall goes for the door but notices how Frigga rises from the bed. He does not suppress his smile. “Perhaps you prefer the discussion now?”

“Please.” Frigga follows him outside but not without halting at the door frame and glancing at her two sons.

Thor watches the door click shut. Silence falls over them. Loki sits at the edge of the bed, his skin too pale against his hospital gown.

They don’t talk.

Though it’s only natural that they tip-toe around each other after what happened in the car, this almost feels like walking on thin ice with nothing but Thor’s bare feet. The room stretches far enough for pacing at lengths but he feels small and out of place standing in front of the bed, hovering nearly with slight intent, as if hesitant to act in a way that might just have Loki  _talking._

But whatever Loki chooses to do at the moment speaks very plainly of his intention to ignore Thor completely. He picks at his hand which has been infused with IV fluids and runs his thumb over the tube that reveals a drop of his blood. Thor watches as Loki does this, almost feels bad that there’s nothing he can do but wallow in this misplaced guilt and sit there uselessly, waiting for the doctor to lead their course.

He goes for the couch next to Loki’s bed, pulls out his phone and toys it in his hands. It doesn't really serve him any purpose. When he looks up, Loki has already adjusted himself against the headboard with a book in his hands. They way he’s holding it almost looks uncomfortable.

“Loki, you’ll hurt your hand.”

But Loki only flips a page using the infused hand in response. Show-off. “I don’t feel anything.”

It’s hopeless anyway, really. Loki talks when he decides it’s something rational thing he can do but when he doesn’t, it almost feels like talking to a wall. This is what has Thor pulling his hair from his head. They’re getting too comfortable, they’re not  _talking_ , and if he’s got a chance at being the best kind of insensitive and inhuman, ignoring Loki’s concerns is one way to go at it.

“Alright, spit it out,” snaps Thor. Apparently, Loki’s silence speaks quite the volumes. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Why do you ask?” Loki doesn’t even glance at him. The  _nerve _.__

“I don’t  _know_ , Loki. Maybe I’m just reading the signs wrong but it looks like you’re stuck with the notion of blaming me for what happened today.”

At those words, Loki puts his book down. The smile that ghosts over his face does not resemble a smile at all for it appears to be a gesture that’s intended to mock Thor’s words. And this, Thor understands, perhaps quite well after years of years of witnessing the very same smile acquire different meanings. This time though, Thor decides, Loki is outright  _furious_  with him.

“Would you just admit it?” says Loki. His eyes appear hollower when he looks at Thor. “It wouldn’t hurt flushing your ego down the drain for once.”

“What are you saying?”

“You only acted out the hero this time because mom and dad weren’t there, and you were  _bound_ to be responsible for whatever happens to me.” Loki challenges, “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“Fuck you,” Thor rasps.

“Yes, fuck me, right? To  _hell_ with your ill excuse of a brother?”

“You’re the one who overdosed and even you had no clue over what could possibly happen,” Thor argues. “How the fuck was I supposed to know that?”

“Exactly,” Loki sneers. “How could you  _ever_ know, Thor?”

Thor turns away and tries breathing through his mouth, his chest still tight with the rage too troubling to control. When he looks at his brother, Loki’s face has shifted into a disarray of emotions that ranges from fury to anguish, resentment being the most prominent. Thor finds himself mirroring it with his own indignation.

When they were but kids, they never misunderstood each other. Everything they did together was guided by the mutual perspective they shared over their habits and that made them what their parents seem to call an inseparable pair.

Then Loki got sick, and Thor felt like he fell slightly behind because his brother’s condition was the one thing he couldn’t understand.  

Thor gets up to leave. “I need to go.”

“Your greatest expertise indeed.”

“I left my  _car_  on the side of the road, Loki,” snaps Thor, throwing his brother an impatient look. “I’ll drive your stuff in the morning.”

Loki picks his book up. “Whatever.”

With that, Thor turns to leave. Loki doesn’t care, Thor decides. Loki doesn’t care at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you think? Kudos and feedback will be appreciated! :) 
> 
> Also, you can drop asks on my [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/shattered-loki) if you want to :)
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor wonders where Odin has been, and Loki receives his scan results.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thanks to everyone who left kudos and comments! 
> 
> I've done my best research on all the medical talks included here, but if there are things you wish to understand better, please don't hesitate to leave questions in the comment box. 
> 
> The banner below is a scan of the heart produced through an echo-cardiogram.
> 
> Enjoy :)

 

Loki wakes up sweating.

The IV fluids have dozed him into growing rather lightheaded, bright florescent lights a halo above his head that blind his eyes into a repetitive blinking. Despite the thrum of the air-condition he seems to be slick with sweat as though he’s been exposed to the piercing waves of the ocean.

Then he remembers his dream.

A memory in his youth, rash and impulsive the little boy he was when he and Thor had taken a trip to the beach. They’d chased each other through the waves back and forth, bellows of _brother_  whenever one started laughing once captured by the tide, crossing the distance between the sand and the ocean as a challenge intended to rouse.

But Loki has woken up before their little game ended.

The book he’s failed to finish remains clutched in his hand, a quick glance to the wall clock tells him that it’s way past dinner. He sits up and adjusts the hospital gown over his legs, the churn of his stomach making him realize how hungry he actually is.

As if on cue, Frigga slips past the door carrying a tray of what smells like curry. “I had to run down for dinner while you slept. Six, seven hours maybe. You’re far too exhausted for a nap like that. Hungry?”

“Truly.” Loki casts her a grateful smile and begins to eat once the food is offered. “Will you be staying over?”

Frigga visibly hesitates. “Actually, I was meaning to ask your brother—”

Loki is rather quick to decline. “Oh, don’t bother, mom. I’m sure he’s occupied with other things.”

Frigga goes to sit in front of him while he eats. With the scrutinizing look on her face, Loki could only pray that she doesn’t speak of the obvious.

But in an accusatory tone she says, “You had a fight.”

“We said some things," Loki tries, but when Frigga gives him a look, he rolls his eyes in defeat. “Okay, _I_ said some things. Nothing too... personal, if that's what you're worried about, but it’s fine. He’ll blow off some steam.”

The frown that stretches across his mother’s face does a fine job making him feel the slightest inch of guilt. As if he’s just shared to his mother the lethal impact of the words he uses on Thor as self-defense whenever a disagreement between the both of them arises, which occurs rather _often._

Frigga’s disappointment is evident because _how could her sons really?_  How could they let go of each other even when faced with another threat that requires them to at least reconcile and return to each others’ side?

 _ _“__ This is about earlier, isn’t it?” she asks, and when Loki forces a nod, she sighs in exasperatedly. “I thought so. Your brother tends to do a lot of that whenever you rile him up.”

“Do what?”

“Just... being upset and all. And he hasn’t been answering my calls.” Frigga shrugs. “Must be with your father.”

Oh, right. Odin hasn’t visited Loki yet, hasn’t even texted the worries he so likes bottling to himself instead of _voicing_ them out to his own ill son. Sometimes, Loki wonders if Odin still wishes to be a father figure to him, after all.

Loki is only thankful that Frigga manages to read him through his silence without actually having to ask. She urges him to eat which Loki willingly does so and holds his wrist with one hand.

“You have your echo-cardiogram in an hour,” Frigga reminds him. Loki is quick to recall the static beeping sound of the machines. “You’re going to get discharged soon, rest assured. He’s a great doctor, your new one.”

Loki eyes her as he chews. “You trust him?”

“You always have to trust your doctor when things start to get troubling.”

“But things are not so troubling,” Loki points out, an eyebrow raised. Frigga pauses for a momentary beat.

“Of course they aren’t.” She shakes her head. An honest mistake. With a breathy chuckle, her hand tightens around Loki’s arm. “I knew that, darling. Of course I did.”

When Loki smiles, it doesn’t reach his eyes.

**…**

Thor doesn’t exactly know how long he’s been sitting in the driveway. He figures he might not be in the right mind to enter his house with the guts required to ask his father about his whereabouts. And judging by the number of rooms lit up in the house along with the car parked right next to his, Odin has been home for quite some time.

“Screw this,” Thor swears, pulling the car door open. When he enters the house he goes straight for Odin’s study and wills himself to stop acting like a girl. “Dad?”

Odin’s voice floats through the door cracks. “Come in, son.”

His back is hunched over a pile of paperwork on the desk, scattered in a way that hints how Odin must have pushed the unnecessary hardcopies aside to focus on the files that mostly needed work. Thor stands in the doorway, unsure as to how to approach his father about his own concern.

“You’ll tire yourself from standing there,” Odin points out eventually, still unmoving from his position. His body language tells Thor he’s in a rush. “What is it, boy? I sure you don’t have time for hovering in the hallway like the nosy child you are.”

“Sorry, it’s just,” Thor rushes out, pausing to run a hand through his hair. Eventually, he forces out a breath. “You weren’t in the hospital."

“Ah, yes.” At last, Odin separates himself from his desk. He leans back on his chair with arms across his chest, his one good eye fixing Thor with a contemplative look. “Well then. How is your brother?”

“He overdosed,” Thor says, catching the tug of Odin’s lips. He’s listening now; at least that's a good sign. “I used to think he was getting better, you know? We were only driving like normal and the next thing I knew, he was suffocating.”

He expects a reassurance of some sort. _You did the best you could._ Butwhen Odin doesn’t even bother responding, Thor gives up on holding himself back.

“You weren’t there.”

Odin blinks. “Yes.”

“ _Why_?” Thor presses. Things don’t sit well with him.

“I had other calls to take after driving your mother.”

“And you couldn’t have bothered stopping by?” prompts Thor, finding the whole thing incredulous. “Dad, Loki overdosed in the middle of the goddamn road.”

“And your mother came, did she not?”

“That’s beside the point.”

“Business is business, my son,” Odin points out, as if the statement itself should be enough to justify the many shortcomings Thor would gladly list. “Men of authority will not stop for sentiment, which is why we have trusted you to tend to your brother in the occasions your mother and I happen to be occupied. He already has _you_.”

“Yes, but didn’t you think how he might have needed you there?”

“Your brother and I… we don’t really communicate,” Odin confesses, a weary sigh escaping his lips as he leans against the backrest of his chair. “To be fair, I don’t understand him most times. We are rarely ever on the same page.”

Thor shakes his head, hand gripping the doorknob. “That’s hardly my fault anymore.”

A door slams loudly from the lounge.

“That’s your mom,” Odin says, and Thor takes it as his cue to leave. “Go help her with the luggage.”

He walks away from Odin’s study, sparing one last glance at the man that used to stroke Loki’s hair back in the bathroom when his brother repeatedly began hyperventilating. Thor doesn’t recognize that man now, probably might not even see the resemblance at all, but he’s not losing hope.

Not yet.

Frigga greets him in the lounge, a warm and gloomy smile worn so gracefully that Thor would have definitely missed its falter if he didn't know any better. She’s trying, he knows she is, but that doesn’t always mean things eventually get better for her.

“Hello dear,” Frigga greets, glancing at Thor as he allows himself into the space of their living room. “Guess we’re staying in for the weekend.”

“Doesn’t matter.” He takes two of the bags from Frigga’s hands and sets to bring them into her room later. Still, he couldn’t help but hear the sigh behind that came behind, and when he looks back, he sees his mom glancing around the room, eyes darted far into corners he could not see. “How is he?”

That has her meeting his eyes, and if Thor isn’t so distraught with the words he's had with Odin earlier, he might just use the overdue silence as a chance to comfort his obviously distressed mother.

“He’s holding out, sleeping when I left him,” Frigga replies, walking into the kitchen. “Results don’t come up until tomorrow morning, though. Why don’t you help me with dinner?”

It feels good, really, to be able to occupy his mind with systematic procedures of cooking salmon while trying to keep up a conversation with his mom even though he’s definitely reluctant to talk. The subject seems sore, and Frigga doesn’t seem to inch anywhere towards it, so Thor doesn’t bother bringing it up. Like a void in his mind which he thinks he’s only made up, a thought that doesn’t leave his head for the fun of keeping him awake.

Thor is revisited with flashes of alarm, the sensation of dread gradually overwhelming his chest when he'd first noticed how Loki’s head seemed far too stiff. Absentmindedly, he shakes his head, seems as if he cannot forget how his brother’s body failed to move at all, save for the breaths Loki tried catching _only_  when Thor finally adjusted the oxygen tank and returned the silicon tubes to his nose.

He doesn’t notice Frigga slapping his hand away from his plate during dinner. Thor blinks. “I’m sorry… what was that?”

From the end of the table, Odin shakes his head at Thor, obviously disgruntled with his son’s lack of focus. Frigga sighs at him but says nothing to encourage her husband’s behaviour.

“I was only suggesting,” she begins, using the utensils in her hands to clear the leftovers on her plate. Thor watches, awaits what would come. “Well, if you aren’t as occupied as your brother claims, perhaps you can drop a visit to his classes and ask for his books.”

“Let me guess. Loki asked _you_  to ask me.”

“Well. I think it’s safe to say that your mutual outburst earlier didn’t exactly go unnoticed.”

Thor sighs, completely having foreseen this conversation happening. “Alright, I’ll do that.” He stares at his plate, faintly observing how he’s barely even touched his food, and just realizing now why Frigga is occasionally sending him not-so-subtle looks over the table. If they’re worried, let them wonder. "Did he ask for me?”

“Thor, honey,” Frigga begins, and Thor knows that tone. She’s _consoling_  him. “I’d say it’ll be better to give your brother some time.”

“Who’s going to look after him, then?”

“I’ll be there,” she promises.

“I’ll go as well,” Odin says, drowning a bottle of _Cabernet Sauvignon_ and tipping a nod at Thor. “Since our son keeps insisting I drop by.” His tone is far too sarcastic.

Thor is a second close to yanking his hair from his head. The atmosphere in the room feels wrong. Dinner has started so late into the evening and Odin keeps emptying the bottles from the fridge, grabbing whatever unopened alcoholhe finds and stashing it under the communal table whenever he thinks Frigga isn’t watching. Frigga’s face hasn’t changed a bit over the past hour, ranging from distracted to all the more agitated, and it’s done nothing but become the constant reminder of Thor’s regret whenever he remembers the incident earlier in his car. They _are_  talking, eating as they discuss whatever concern comes to mind but the room feels empty still, and Thor doesn’t like any of it.

Later, he offers to do the dishes. Frigga stands not far away as her son works, silently watching with reserved concern.

“He doesn’t blame you, you know,” she says eventually, when the clanking of glass bowls and silver knives grows to a minimal. “Visit him after school. He will look for you.”

Thor chuckles, finding the claim rather absurd.

**...**

“If growing thinner is one thing you don’t look forward to, I’d suggest of variety of protein and carbohydrates. You’re thin enough now; no need to continue the habit.”

Loki quirks an eyebrow suspiciously at his new companion, a nurse appearing to be in her early twenties who’s currently fastening a constricting band around his bicep to monitor his blood pressure. Scarlet hair, pale skin and long fingers. Loki has seen her somewhere before.

“Do you work for my doctor?” he asks, just to sate his growing curiosity. Loki begins to feel a sharp tightness around his muscles and he looks down to see that the nurse has started inflating the armband.

“Not really,” she says, studying the numbers on the gauge when she deflates the armband. “I work with Dr. Heimdall when our shifts end up in the same schedule.” Loki notices the skin around his arm turn pink from the pressure before the nurse turns to him. “You’ve probably seen me before, since I assisted with your scans last night. Anyway, hi, I’m Sigyn.”

“Miss Sigyn,” Loki says, testing it out. “Anything baffling with my vitals?”

“Body temperature and breathing rate appear sound,” Sigyn says, rearranging the apparatus on Loki’s bed and placing them on a tray. A frown pulls at her face. “Your blood pressure is higher than normal, but we’ll work on lowering that as you recover.”

Loki notices how the nurse appears at ease. He lies back, watching her move around before clicking his tongue. “You were saying something about my… physique?”

“Ah, yes,” Sigyn turns around and points to the tray on the nightstand. “You need to get your body in adequate shape to properly sustain the dosage of your medicine. So do try to eat proteins, Mr. Odinson. It really shows when you’re not eating.”

In Loki’s defense, he _has_  been eating. He hasn't had a single problem with his shape until now. As the nurse turns to exit through the door, Loki remembers something from last night, something he has given a lot of thought to just as Frigga left his room. 

“Miss Sigyn.”

Sigyn looks back to cast him a look, ashen face concealed by a brief flash of interest.

“If I assume correctly, you have my scan results with you at the moment,” Loki says, chin tilted up to meet the support of the headboard behind. His skepticism is evidently displayed when he skims over her figure, posture reserved but still giving. If his speculation is true, he might just be right if he says Sigyn would go on claiming otherwise.

“I would like to see the scans, if that’s possible.”

“Mr. Odinson,” she begins, her whole attention caught. “We are asked to disclose the patient’s medical information only to families present. Until either of your parents arrive, the scans remain with the staff.”

“You’ll find yourself disappointed, then. They just left town this dawn.” Loki studies the clipboard in her arms, catching sight of the dark translucent material of x-ray scans in between papers. “If it wouldn’t be so much as a burden, you’re free to disclose the scans to me.”

As though sensing his lie, this Sigyn seems as hesitant. “Loki.”

“They don’t…” Loki sighs. He doesn’t understand why he’s reducing himself to this phase of opening up just for a copy of his pathetic _chest scans._ “They don’t understand this, alright? I’ve had this goddamn oxygen tank for eleven years and nothing’s happened, but if something has changed so drastically this time, I need to know what it is.”

Surprisingly, Sigyn deflates. “Just this once, Loki. You’re still meeting Dr. Heimdall with your parents.”

“Thank you.” Loki briefly notices the look across the nurse’s face, and he takes his time studying her. “What’s is it?”

Instead of answering, Sigyn hands him the scans which have a yellow sheet of paper attached behind. Loki’s name is printed on top, his doctor’s clinic address placed just below with his signature, followed by a series of paragraphs that illustrate the diagnosis and…

“Are these really mine?” Loki asks. He knows they are, but he asks because he needs a second voice to tell him so and force him to believe it.

In front of him, Sigyn could only nod, despite Loki now paying her no mind. She grabs the paper Loki refuses to let go of and replaces it with the first scan.

Loki fixes his eyes on the triangular frame of what seems to be his heart, a blurry image broken by a branch of thick thread-like structures that Sigyn later points out as his heart muscles.

“They’re made visible so you could identify where the chambers lie.” She points to a vacant area on the top, right next to the uppermost branch of muscles. “That’s the right atrium.”

It’s when Loki recognizes the rather unnoticeable defect, barely visible to the eye if one does not squint enough. Sigyn must have probably caught on, so she brings her finger back to the scan and directs Loki’s line of vision more accurately.

“What you’re looking at is the heart muscle next to your left ventricle,” she says. Her finger brushes slightly to the right, and that’s when Loki _finds_  it.

**…**

One of the advantages of going to the same college (or what their parents used to say) is being able to keep an eye on his brother whenever the opportunity flies by. Ever since they've known about Loki’s first diagnosis, they haven’t been allowed to study in separate schools.

On some occasions, Thor would be training in the football field and he’d catch a glimpse of his brother trailing towards the lecture halls. A whistle and a half-assed thumbs-up were enough to alert him of Loki’s condition at the moment. And though sophomores and seniors are rarely put in a class together, Loki is exempted from the policy as he has managed taking several advanced classes, and is able to take the same Calculus class as Thor as an incentive.

So that’s where Thor goes first.

“Odinson!”

He’s only stopped in his tracks when he hears his name being called. Thor whirls around to meet a throng of people in the hallway before he’s being dragged to a corner by a junior who’s a very close friend of Loki.

“Ow.” Thor is barely able to rub at his elbow before Sif trashes him onto a wall. She’s a part-time boxing instructor at their local gym, and a very good boxer too. How Loki ended up befriending someone with habitual practices different from his has always been beyond Thor. “I understand you need something from me, but a quick warning would—”

“How did it happen?” Sif cuts him off, appearing quite serious than usual, her voice slipping into a quiver Thor is wise enough ignore. When he doesn’t answer, remaining motionless beneath her fist that has forced him as far into the wall, Sif pushes him again as if restless. “What went wrong this time?”

“You found out,” is what Thor could say. She knows. Of course she would.

“Well, I had to ask _someone_!” she cries. “Neither of you were answering my texts and I knew something had happened, but thank __god__  your mom answered my calls—”

“Sif,” Thor _tries_ , the hand now loosening against his neck, but she isn’t listening.

“I only found out this _morning_ , Thor. He’s always looked tired these days, but I never said anything because you _know_  how sensitive your brother is, and—” Sif cuts herself off, forcing herself to breathe and angrily wipe at her eye. Thor holds her wrist, silently asking her to calm down. “I don’t know what to think anymore, okay, so please tell me he’s alright.”

Thor sighs, knowing full well that he has nothing to account for that.

“Look,” he starts, because he doesn’t want to sound insensitive. “He had an episode on the middle of the road, so I called an ambulance because I had no fucking clue what was happening except that he had overdosed. And that’s coming from his doctor, not me.”

“But Loki’s never had problem with his meds.”

“I don’t know __anything__ , Sif. We’re not talking, alright, and _fuck.”_

Thor runs a hand through his hair, glances around the corridor and finds hoards of students that know nothing of the regret that’s slowly building up inside him. Sif gently nudges his side to pull him away from his thoughts. “Can I see him?”

It’s in her eyes, shadowed and barely visible from the way she’s quickly able to mask it, as if blinking could conceal how her own shell breaks. Thor sees it clearly, the dread that he wishes would not mirror his own, for he cannot put on display what he feels, and what he feels is the one thing that has kept him awake all night.

“Yeah,” he nods, knowing how much it would mean to her. “After class, then. Though, I might need help with his books.”

Turns out, Sif has more classes with Loki than Thor originally thinks. She eases their way into the lecture halls without being stopped by the professor present, and when asked about their concern which apparently requires interrupting the class that's currently being held, Thor explains the situation in the hospital with ease, which gives him heads in his direction and sympathetic eyes in return. It only makes Thor feel queasy.

Sif is an easy companion, after all. In the short minutes Thor spends with her, he could say he’s a fraction close to understanding what it truly is that Loki saw in her.

When they finish collecting all of Loki’s textbooks, Thor decides to give themselves a break. They find a bench near the dorms, empty for the crowd that easily lingers around.

“Why aren’t you talking?” Sif wonders when they adapt to the silence around them, recalling the revelation Thor has carelessly slipped up earlier. He contemplates answering _mood-swings_ , but not even he can underestimate a woman with great perception like Sif.

Instead, he laughs it off like it’s a discussion better ignored given that Sif is smart enough to understand.

“You know why.”

And she does. “Your brother’s many things, but he’s never without reason. Think you did something in the past to piss him off like that?”

“Don’t know,” Thor answers honestly. He refuses to meet Sif’s eyes. “I've probably failed him lots of times. Just don’t know when.”

For a while, it’s just the calm before the storm; the storm being the frustration sprouting beneath Thor’s chest which might just overpower him if he’s not careful enough.

“You should skip class,” Sif advises, as if sensing the uproar in his head. “Go to the hospital and talk to him. Make amends.”

 _Make amends?_  Thor wants to laugh.

“Loki doesn’t want me to see him.”

“When has that ever stopped you?”

It’s terrible, _terrible_  advice, but Thor listens because despite what Frigga told him about giving his brother some time, he _doesn’t_  want to do that because it’s giving him a really difficult time in exchange. And when Thor is asked to circle around his concerns and pretend as if nothing’s really bothering him, it makes it hard to function at all because he doesn’t know a lot of things and he has _never_ liked not knowing.

A ringing breaks his thoughts, and Thor looks up just in time to see Sif glancing at her phone.

“I’m running late for my AP test,” she frowns. “I’ll drop by later.”

Thor nods, waves her off. “I’ll have him know.”

For a while, he is left there standing, watching Sif run off, wondering how it would feel to be someone who could well understand his brother for once.

**…**

The drive to the hospital has been physically tiring, but it’s nothing compared to the mislaid queasiness Thor experiences as he opens the door to Loki’s private ward.

It’s not a large room, really, but spacious enough that it would accommodate five people comfortably should Loki ever decide upon inviting his friends and their parents altogether. The unwelcoming white walls provide the illusion of privacy where there are two glass windows to offer an overhead view of the hospital’s parking lot. Loki glances up from his bed at the sound of the door creaking, and Thor swallows his bile to muster up what he could only pray to be a casual nod.

“Hey, Lo.”

“So you reappear.”

“That’s because I’m supposed to,” says Thor, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Though according to the sneer that Loki casts in his direction, his brother disagrees entirely.

Surprisingly, Loki doesn’t do anything to argue, somehow appearing decided on ignoring Thor completely even as his brother stands in front of the bed. Instead, Loki settles back against the headboard and toys with the bowl of soup in his hands. Thor hasn’t noticed that when he first came in.

“I met with Sif, by the way.” He remembers himself and reaches for the bag which carries the books. “Mom asked me to collect your books for you. Obviously, I had to ask for help because… well. You know.”

Loki quirks an eyebrow, but otherwise places the bowl on his nightstand and takes the bag from Thor. “You must have been met with… force, I assume.”

“Quite unnecessarily, yes.”

“Well.” Loki fishes for the first book and Thor prays that what he catches on his brother’s face is the very living sight of an existent smile. “She isn’t easy to deal with when she’s pissed, and I haven’t been texting her.”

“Which is a mistake, really,” Thor equips, just to lighten up the mood. “Anyway, she asked me if she could see you.”

“Oh.” Loki fiddles with the first page. “You said yes, then.”

Thor nods, “I did.” He leaves Loki to inspect the pages before clearing his throat. “Hey, listen. About yesterday—”

Loki slams the book shut, effectively cutting Thor’s speech short without so much as a reason why. And if Thor thinks he’s free to swallow the lump in his throat at the somehow harmless exchange between them that transpired just a few seconds ago, he’s also free to think again because Loki’s eyes are back to their usual glaring, fixed and hard-rimmed as if they are always made to look at Thor that way.

It’s a silent code for _shut your fucking mouth_ , but like the exasperated fool he is, Thor continues to speak.

“I’m sorry about yesterday, alright? But it’s not what it is,” he tries, ignoring the way Loki seems to set his eyes rolling and throwing his head to the side as if completely dissocializing himself. “I’m not playing the hero, or whatever the hell it is that you think.”

“Thor, shut _up_.”

Then Loki starts laughing, completely random and out of the blue, and Thor considers it best to actually stop rambling for once.

He studies his brother’s face, one that gives away nothing but naked amusement even as his head is thrown to the side and the grin that has taken its place across Loki’s usually grim face now recedes into nothing but a clenched frown. Thor remains standing by the foot of the bed, waiting.

For a while, there’s nothing. Then Loki says, “Stage three.”

“What?”

Loki only stares at him. "Stage three, Thor."

Thor rounds the bed, inviting himself onto the sheets that pool around Loki’s waist. He sits on the edge and waits for his brother to continue.

“I had the nurse show me the scans,” says Loki, fixing Thor with a neutral gaze for the first time since yesterday. “It probably cost me a fit of begging, seeing as they were very uptight of patients not knowing much further about the risks of their own impairment. Turns out, the scans showed more than I originally hoped to see, and if my own diagnosis proves true, then I’m afraid my condition has drastically progressed into stage three.”

“Is it serious?” Thor presses, not exactly knowing what to obtain from the information. Loki grabs his phone from the nightstand and passes it to Thor.

“Feel free to educate yourself,” Loki says, fingers hovering the camera roll and revealing a screenshot of a medical blog for Thor to read.

Thor looks down, and he’s immensely rooted in the complexity of the words used to describe existing cardiovascular conditions. For a while, he doesn’t completely comprehend what he’s reading, but as he swipes across the numerous shots, he stumbles into a string of words that more than enough captures his complete attention. 

_Cardiac failure rate._

What follows is a paragraph that elaborates the risks associated with a person whose echo-cardiogram scans display their chance at being within the cardiac failure rate.

And being within the cardiac failure rate means…

Thor swipes away, digging for information as fast as his fingers allow him. Then he reaches another page containing the exact explanation he’s looking for.

_Cardiac failure; declared when only 35% (and below) of the blood in the heart is pumped out._

And its… symptoms. 

_Shortness of breath. Fatigue. Fainting. Rapid or irregular heartbeats. Other risks: High blood pressure, cardiomyopathy, a fucking heart attack—_

“You’re over-thinking,” Loki points out, successfully breaking Thor from his thoughts, seeming as though he could well read the way Thor’s face begins to grow pale at the words flashing across the screen. And when Thor looks up at his brother, he finds that Loki looks hollower and paler than before, which should not be possible at all as he’s only been in the hospital overnight. “You’re reacting the same way as I did when the nurse first told me, but what you’re reading are huge words, Thor. We don’t know anything until my doctor explains this for us.”

“Fuck, alright,” sighs Thor, rubbing his temples as he returns Loki’s phone. “Go ahead, run me through it. You’re the only one who could understand what you’re going through, so just fucking tell me what I need to understand.”

Loki sighs at him but otherwise holds his phone up to show Thor a photo on the screen.

“These are my scans from last night," he says. “I got them today from the nurse. If you look closely, the muscle next to my left ventricle is swollen, and it has grown larger since the day I was first diagnosed with its abnormal enlargement.”

Thor leans to study the photo closer. Loki zooms in using his thumbs and guides Thor’s eyes to a clearer shot of the scans. And Thor sees what indeed seems to be a cavity just between two blurred lines that divide the heart into chambers. That must be left ventricle.

Loki continues. “Well, you see. Blood that enters the heart also has to pass through the left ventricle, and because of the excessive enlargement of the heart muscle next to the ventricle’s opening…”

“It's blocking the blood from passing,” Thor finishes for him. He glances up at Loki. “That’s what your doctor meant, when he said you’re pumping too little blood.”

“Exactly,” Loki nods briefly. "I thought you knew how this worked since I was first diagnosed." 

So Thor lets himself think. Register all the information despite finding it hard to take it all in. He contemplates asking a few questions, but he figures Loki still isn't in the right spot to be entertaining him at all, and Thor isn’t exactly looking forward to arguing with his brother today. They’ve just started talking again; he’d like to savor the peace quite longer.

There’s a shift in Loki’s demeanor later on when Sif drops by. And sitting by the window as he watches the two friends interact, Thor catches the first genuine smile Loki wears that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you think? Kudos and feedback are highly appreciated! :)
> 
> Thank you for reading :))


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The doctor brings more news. Loki remembers the night by the ocean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For all of those who stuck around, you're all my MVPs. Thank you so so much for your continuous support. 
> 
> I do Thorki manips on my [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/shattered-loki) for this fic. If you guys checked those out, I'd be very honoured.
> 
> Enjoy!

 

Thor’s classes on Tuesdays only occupy eight to eleven in the morning. His head is still pounding from the little sleep he had last night, but he’s already skipped Calculus with Professor Selvig yesterday along with a few other managerial classes, and he’s not exactly hyped over several deadlines piling up on his desk.

“Need an Advil?” His roommate Volstagg tosses him a zip-bag from the bathroom. “You seem exhausted, my friend. Why don’t you skip your eighth?”

The thought is tempting, but Thor knows better. He’s managed to accompany Loki in the hospital yesterday until Sif arrived, only to be sent home by Loki to grab a few things that Frigga had forgotten to pack. They don’t really know how long his brother’s going to be in the hospital, but Loki wanted to prepare in case of a longer stay. And Thor, being the only one available, had to make up for that.

He hits the showers and finds Volstagg gone when he comes out. They have separate classes but they always come down to the same football training in the afternoon. However, time appears to run too slow for Thor even as he quickens his pace and crosses the campus to head towards the lecture halls.

“Glad to see you joining us, Mr. Odinson.”

Professor Selvig clutches a stack of papers to his chest, positioned in front of the desk and eyeing Thor as he enters the room full of awaiting eyes. He’s ten minutes late, but Professor Selvig seems rather unsurprised, settling on ignoring him with clear intent as Thor takes the last seat at the back.

Fucking Calculus. If Loki were here, Thor wouldn’t mind going through the countless formulas being shoved into his head because at  _least_  he’d have his brother kicking his chair from the back and nudging Thor to pay attention instead of scribbling things at the back of his textbook.

Now, he spends most of the hour glancing at the clock, wondering if Loki’s awake. Thor’s mind keeps drifting away that he doesn’t notice Professor Selvig walking through the columns of chairs as he distributes the papers in his hands.

“Reviewers." When he gets to Thor, Professor Selvig hands out two copies instead of one. “Give that to your brother, would you? Finals are coming up.”

Fifteen minutes pass before the period finally ends. Thor suffers two more of his classes in speech communication before he’s running toward the football field, searching for a mop of blonde in a sea of people.

“Fandral!”

Thor spies the quarterback, the guy’s height giving off as he towers over people on the tracks. They’ve only just started training, and Thor is quite grateful that he’s made it on time before the guys begin their routine.

“Everyone’s doing legwork, then,” Thor chuckles, glancing around the field to see most of his teammates on the grass. He tosses a bottle at his friend, finding Fandral hunched over the grass and flexing his legs as they dig into the ground.

Fandral chugs down half of the bottle before grinning at Thor. “Coulson’s making them pay for yesterday. Half of them showed up late and coach was in a sour mood, which you didn’t see, by the way. Where the hell were you?”

Thor shakes his head. He sees Coulson blow into his whistle as two linebackers dash across the tracks. “Been throwing up for two days.”

“Got yourself food-poisoned?”

“Hell, I don’t know.”

Fandral nudges him. “Make sure you’ll get away with it this time. You know how coach hates all that vomiting bullshit the guys use as excuses.”

Thor joins Fandral on the ground, pushing one leg forward and lowering his body down. “Was the damage yesterday pretty bad?”

“Oh, Coulson looked like he could cut balls,” Fandral chuckles and Thor grins, imagining the look on their coach’s face and what a novelty it would have been to see it. After a while, his grin falters, and Fandral notices the slip. “Sure you’re okay, man?”

“Yeah,” Thor tries to smile. “Food poisoning.”

They run through their usual drills, starting the routine by completing 20-mile dashes until they decide to double the distance. Thor finishes off by doing a minute-long of vertical leaps. It’s not the legwork he’s planned to challenge himself with, but Thor's head is threatening to shut itself down if he goes any harder on himself, so he deflates.

Fandral is obviously disappointed when Thor refuses a whole dash around the whole track field, but otherwise does nothing to point it out.

“You think we’d win?” Fandral asks after a moment, eyes leading Thor’s to the sight of their teammates. Their drills have ended a minute ago, and they’re now reduced to a heap of sweat on the grass. “Semi-finals against Alabama next month. We have home court advantage.”

Thor sees it clearly: the whole stadium filled with uniforms of blue and white and the shrill of the whistle going off before his vision blurs from the lights. They’ve won back to back last season but Alabama has had greater defense since. And though he doesn’t want to lie to his friend about the real challenge against their opponent, Thor can’t help but have a great feeling about their next game.

“We’ll do our best.”

They sit in peace as they watch their other teammates in amusement. Thor could barely suppress his grin at Volstagg who is currently trying to complete ten rounds across the whole field. Coulson stands not far away, keeping his eyes trained on the poor guy.

"Odinson!"

Thor whirls around, distracted by the sudden mention of his name. He finds a very annoyed Sif walking in his direction.

“Sif, what’s going on—ow!”

Sif doesn’t hesitate to pull Thor to his feet. “What’s going on is that you’re not answering your goddamn phone. Loki has been calling you for the past hour!”

“Shit, he has?” Thor sighs, remembering that he left his phone back in the dorms.

“I had to skip  _Linguistics_  for this, in case you wanted to know. He wants you in the hospital now.”

“Hospital?” So Fandral has apparently been listening, now looking expectantly at Thor. “Why, what happened to him?”

Thor groans, shooting an apologetic look to both Sif and Fandral. “I’ll tell you next time.”

He runs across the campus to reach the dorms. His phone is the first thing Thor grabs a hold of when he gets to his room and indeed, Loki has called him fifteen times in the past hour. And ten times in the hour before that.

Thor grabs a sweater and drives to the hospital.

****…** **

Loki very carefully avoids Thor’s eye as his brother slips into the room. Dr. Heimdall’s been speaking before Thor entered, but even in silence does Frigga appear wary. Odin, on the other hand, looks like he’d rather have the doctor speak bluntly without so much as caution.

Thor clicks the door shut. “Sorry, I’m late. I’ll just—”

Frigga nods at him. “Come in quickly.”

Thor takes the couch by the window. Dr. Heimdall holds out the scans towards the light, sharing glances with Frigga and Odin. “Basically, it’s what your son said. The swelling grew larger, and only twenty-five percent of his blood enters his heart. Any lower, and Loki would be in a state.”

Frigga grows pale. “What kind of state?”

“He’s likely going to have trouble breathing. That, plus the fact that his body will be shutting itself down without the IV fluids. Which is also why he needs a few more days in the hospital.”

Odin is obviously displeased. “So he won’t be discharged sooner?”

Loki rolls his eyes, watches as Frigga lays a hand around Odin’s arm. “We must trust the doctor, dear. If he needs the time to observe Loki, then we will have it.”

“Indeed,” Dr. Heimdall nods. “If I haven’t made it clear enough earlier, your son’s results came out differently than I expected. We’ll have to run additional tests, but his medication will be the new one I prescribed.”

Loki sighs. “I suppose the dosage is higher, then?”

“Yes, but they all go through your IV fluids. When you get discharged, however, you’ll be given pills.”

Thor is barely saying anything, Loki notices. He looks as clueless as Loki expects him to be, and is only watching the three elders communicate with obvious tension.

When no further questions arise, Dr. Heimdall turns to leave. They all give their thanks and sit in silence while Frigga goes to Loki’s side, taking his hand which isn’t infused with tubes. Loki looks down before chuckling at her.

“I don’t have cancer, mom.”

Thor glares at him across the room. Loki ignores him, squeezing Frigga’s hand nonetheless.

“You told me you trusted my doctor,” he says. “I’ll hold you to that, so don’t let the scans deceive you.”

Frigga only frowns at him. “You don’t seem troubled.”

“Because I’m not,” Loki points out. “He’s giving me new medication, mom. I don’t think there’s any reason to worry.”

“Alright,” she sighs, and this time tries a smile which Loki is glad to receive. “Alright, I trust your judgement. I’ll leave you with your brother for a while. Your father and I have to sign some papers.”

“Do we?” Odin rises from his seat.

“Yes.” Frigga kisses both Loki and Thor’s temples before helping Odin to the door. “Come on, honey. You’re driving me to the store afterwards. I’ll see you boys later."

The door clicks shut behind them.

Loki slams his head against the wall behind him with a soft  _thud _.__  He’s blatantly aware of Thor’s presence across the room but decides to ignore his brother as he sighs and grabs a book from the nightstand.

Which is also the moment Thor decides to rise from his seat. He inspects a small bottle on the coffee table and brings it up. Loki glances up from the edge of his book to see his brother reading the side-effects of atenolol.

“What does this do, again?” Thor asks, definitely for conversational purposes. His brother is trying to be subtle on purpose. Loki is smart enough to read the signs.

Either way, he decides to respond. “Stops the heart from racing too fast.”

Thor looks at him, with an openness that makes Loki want to curl on himself and turn away from any attention. Instead, he flips another page, despite already having lost his complete focus.

“So when you took too much of these, does it mean you were basically shutting your own body down?”

“No, Thor.” Loki shoots him an annoyed look. “It means my previous doctor gave me a miscalculated dosage that in turn had me reducing myself to very minimal strength. And since I was in no way informed of said miscalculations, I continued doing my activities without knowing that I was growing weaker day by day.”

“Oh.”

“Right,” Loki huffs, briefly noticing Thor sport a sullen frown before sighing eventually and putting his book down his lap. “You don’t have to pretend to be interested, you know.”

“What?” Thor strides across the room, stopping shortly to sit in front of him. “I  _am_  interested, Loki. How can I help you if I don’t know anything about what you’re going through?”

Loki contemplates the genuine exasperation across Thor’s features. “You should say that louder next time,” he says, then returns to his book and flips a page.

**...**

Young and oftentimes adventurous the boy he is, Loki eyes the ocean with bright purpose. The water has always been his haven as a young child, even more so with the chill brought by sudden waves whenever he cuts through the water with his limbs. He doesn’t mind the cold, never has, and is sure that Thor wouldn’t mind as well as long he got to trail behind Loki in the water.

Under the moon, the ocean looks more striking with the light reflected. Loki aches with the need to extend his limbs to keep himself afloat through the waves that carry his soul into places.

Seven years as a child, young and bright, Loki has always found peace with the ocean.

“Swim with me, Thor!” he grins, clawing at Thor’s short but otherwise firm arms to drag his brother with him to the shore. They rarely go to the ocean at night, and Loki’s only lucky that he’s managed to convince their parents to spend his seventh birthday here on the sand. A cool breeze brushes his skin and sends the hair on his forearms dancing. Thor won’t budge even as Loki pulls. “Come on, Thor! I’m sure the water’s not that cold. Look at those waves!”

And indeed, the waves that Loki has focused on are nothing short of tempting. Risky. Tall enough that submerging his head into their very depths would become a novelty too great to miss.

He’s about to haul Thor onto his feet for all of his brother’s stubbornness, but Thor shakes his head with a soft smile, one that Loki translates as an apology as well as a sincere encouragement to indulge his own desires as he wishes.

“I’ll stay here and watch,” Thor promises, ever so protective in his innocent might, already planting himself firmly on the sand to prove his word.

And Loki, the young fool he is, reconsiders the genuine curve of Thor’s smile and backs away as his brother encourages him to do, pulling his shirt over his head and crashing into the waves at all once.

And at once, all he feels is the cold, finding the chill rather inviting and pleasant to an extent he cannot seem to explain.

Loki swims quickly despite his small limbs, not once intimidated by the vastness of the ocean, for what he truly desires is the refreshing feeling of his small body submerged in complete calm despite the loud crash of waves along the shore. It’s only unfortunate that he cannot savor the experience with Thor, who would surely find purpose to pull at Loki’s feet underwater and tackle his younger brother into his stubby arms as they float.

“Thor!” Loki laughs, loud and free, intending to catch his brother’s attention and boast about his impeccable tolerance for the cold. Only that Thor doesn’t move from his spot, gives away no sign that he’s even heard Loki’s already clamorous voice, and it’s only then that Loki notices how far he actually is from the shore.

He’s too far, stuck at a distance far enough that his vision fails to catch a sight of Thor on the sand. Loki braces himself for a quick swim underwater but an unexpected wave beats him to it, forcing him down into the cold, cold depths until he could no longer endure the chill.

He’s underestimated it all. What used to be a gentle scratch of the cold is now a burn that makes his chest ache for any chance at air. He doesn’t know how a pleasure he keeps could comprise such dangers so dire. Loki throws his limbs in sharp sweeps and forces himself afloat, gasping for air as soon as he submerges.

“Thor!” he cries, knowing not whether his voice is loud enough to catch his brother’s attention. Surely he would notice, right? Thor has promised to watch him after all.

Loki’s eyes burn from the water. He cannot see anything but bright flares of white, and so he also doesn’t catch sight of another wave that takes him by surprise behind.

He is forced into the water again, and this time, Loki breathes. He breathes and wills himself to keep breathing, ignoring the unsanitary taste of the ocean as fluid enters his throat. There’s no air, and Loki realizes his mistake of opening his mouth underwater when he finds himself sinking lower and lower.

For the first time in his life, he feels lost among the waves, and the first person he thinks of, borne with the brightest of smiles and the strongest of arms, is also the person who hauls him back into fresh air as they swim across the water.

****…** **

Loki jolts in his sleep at the sound of the tap running inside the bathroom. It’s still quite light outside. He must have fallen asleep as he read.

“Does your chest hurt?”

Loki whirls around, finding Odin seated at the chair next to the nightstand. Odin has never really been fond of making his presence known, and Loki doesn’t think too much on tolerating his father’s coldness in turn.

“Not really.” He sits up, leaning against the wall. “I just feel tired most of the time.”

Loki doesn’t ask where Frigga is. If his father doesn’t bother mentioning her, then any attempt to stir the growing conversation in her name would come off as cowardly.

“I don’t think you’ll be coming home any sooner.”

Loki scoffs. “I’m sure that would rid you off your worries for a while.”

By this time, the sound of the tap running has faded.

Odin ignores him. “Are you not worried yourself?”

“I’ll have you know that I’m more than capable of handling myself, since you obviously continue to underestimate me.”

“You have school, my boy,” Odin chides, fixing Loki with a firm look. “The credit you continue to earn from your advanced classes must not be jeopardized. You’re a  _sophomore_  in college.”

“A rather intelligent sophomore indeed who has more than enough merits for a scholarship.” Loki takes to scowling. “If you’re so worried about me wasting your money by wallowing my time here, then I hope you’ll take pleasure in the fact that Thor has enough common sense to deal with my professors, since you obviously think I don’t.”

That only displeases his father. “Again with your methods. Dragging your brother into this will not ensure an excuse from your obligations in class.”

“Still your top priority,” Loki chuckles bitterly. “And here I thought you actually showed up to see how I fared.”

"I'm appalled. What kind of father does not care for his son's well-being?"

"How should I know? Do tell me: am I wrong?"

Odin doesn’t bother breaking eye-contact as he says, “You should just know better, my son.”

It’s a grand sight—Odin slipping through the door without so much as a glance to his son. Likewise. Loki does endure indifference quite better when it happens to be presented directly to his face.

The bathroom door opens, and Loki slides back down onto the bed knowing what’s about to come. Even without looking up, he knows that Thor is frowning at him, undoubtedly having heard the conversation that has just gone down.

Loki only curls into the sheets even more. Thor remains hovering at the foot of the bed so Loki sighs and leaves the bait. “If you’re already leaving, I need you to get me some crackers.”

Thor unsurprisingly  _takes_  it. “Flavor?”

“Cheddar, please. If they don’t have those, look for the ones with cream cheese and chimes.”

Footsteps. “Are you paying?”

“Mom didn’t leave any cash.”

Thor chuckles. “Right. So I’m paying then.”

Loki rolls over, watching his brother cross the room. “Please? I owe you one when I finally get out of this damned place.”

Thor rolls his eyes, and Loki grows lightheaded. “I’ll see you tonight.”

****…** **

That night, Thor returns to his dorm room, muscles aching from all the driving he's had to do back and forth. He’s spent the last couple of hours in the afternoon in the hospital, and three more hours afterwards on the field to resume his training after having bolted away. Which has also been followed by driving back to the hospital to bring Loki his so very desired crackers.

The store both had cheddar and cream cheese flavors, so Thor had bought a pack each.

He meets with Fandral outside the campus, finding his friend parked along an alleyway that approaches downtown. There’s a convenience store nearby, and judging by the Burnett’s in Fandral’s hands, Thor knows his friend has ordered them a few rounds for that night.

“It’s almost midnight, by the way,” he chuckles, greeting Fandral with an exasperated smile.

Fandral leads them to the back of his truck where two more bottles are indeed in sight. “No matter. We both don’t have classes until ten tomorrow, I’m sure a bottle wouldn’t hurt.”

Thor has genuinely forgotten about that, and when he thinks about it now, he decides that he won’t really mind a few shots. They lean against the truck, glasses in their hands. Cool air sweeps across his face so Thor drowns his first shot, relishing the burn down his throat.

“Did you return from the hospital?” Fandral asks, looking far into the empty roads.

“The dorms actually,” Thor says, meeting his friend’s eyes. “Had to shower after training.”

Fandral gives nothing but a nod, seeming to understand. As they lose themselves in the silence, Thor stares into the glass in his hands. So much is happening even while he doesn’t think, even as he drowns himself in short-lived bliss and lose all traces of it in the morning.

He knows he’s grown too silent. Unspeaking and far more reserved. If it’s anything to go by, Fandral only wordlessly sits with him as they drink the night away. And Thor bets his friend knows about his worries, but if Fandral doesn’t so much as confirm his suspicions away, Thor thinks it’s enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you think? Kudos and feedback will be appreciated! :) 
> 
> Also, you can drop asks on my [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/shattered-loki) if you want to :)
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor recalls the past, and Loki gets a visitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the feedback! They really keep me going :)
> 
> Also, there's more plot coming. So. 
> 
> Enjoy! :)

 

“That looks really sharp.” Loki’s eyes widen as the needle penetrates his skin. Thor shifts closer to his side, squeezing Loki’s smaller hand tighter as it trembles. “Thor, it hurts so much.”

“Just close your eyes.” And Loki does so. Tears trail down his cheeks, blending into the pelts of water that remain dancing across his face. Thor releases his hand for the first time to wipe at Loki’s eyes.

They’re alone in the private ward save for the attending nurse; both Frigga and Odin consulting Loki’s physician outside the room. Somehow, they’re taking longer than they should, and Thor consoles him by saying that they’re maybe just discussing Loki’s fever. But it is no simple fever, no fleeting cold that would turn Loki's nose red for the next couple of days until he’s bright and healthy again. This time, Loki feels the chill deep down from his chest.

“Are you still cold?” Thor throws the sheets over Loki’s shoulders. Loki hasn’t stopped shaking since they reached the shore and boarded the ambulance that arrived. “I’d make you hot cocoa, but you’re the one who knows how.”

Loki grins then, deciding to give it a try even as his teeth chatter uncontrollably. He looks at Thor, keeps on staring at his brother because when Loki closes his eyes, all he sees is the enraged ocean.

****…** **

He’s only begun the third chapter of _Policy Paradox_ when Sigyn enters his room that morning.

“You’ve been eating,” is what she first says, placing a tray of vials on his nightstand.

“That’s not a question.” Loki rolls his eyes. “Besides, it’s only been two days. How are you so certain I ate much more?”

“You read it from their face, not their body.” Sigyn flashes him a grin and Loki can’t help but snort. She holds up a syringe and inserts the needle into the IV cannula infused in Loki's vein. It doesn’t hurt, but Loki closes his eyes from muscle memory.

He sees the clear fluid enter the tube. “What is this?”

“Milrinone. Decreases the tension in your blood vessels.”

He peeks into the tray. Antibiotics, all of them. He’s always hated those.

“All these prescriptions,” Loki snorts, looking away. “When I was younger, they only gave me adrenaline blockers and sent me off. Even managed to live normally for twelve years after that.”

“Oh, honey. We’re only fixing what went wrong.” Sigyn removes the syringe, the movement causing Loki to study his hand. Sigyn notices the book across Loki’s lap. “We had those in college.”

Loki quirks an eyebrow. “Georgia State Uni?”

“West Georgia, actually.” She pinches the thin plastic tube for an adjustment, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Loki watches curiously. “Used to dwell on public law before I got bored and switched to a medical course. What’s your major?”

“Political Science.”

“Of course it is. You seem smart.” She grins at him and removes the tray from the nightstand. His nurse appears friendly enough, and so Loki can’t help but feel at ease around her. “Why don’t you finish off reading later? I’m bringing you in for your tests. 

On the way back to his ward, Loki gets to ride a wheelchair. He’s spent the last thirty minutes waiting for his turn in the Radiology department, eventually being promised by Sigyn to use a wheelchair when he grows cranky enough.

It’s only five minutes since he’s arrived at his room when Thor visits.

“You reek of alcohol,” Loki cringes, watching his brother plop himself on the couch face first. “At least text me first before you come visiting.”

Thor only groans into the leather. “God, hospitals always smell so sanitary.” 

He’s being too loud and Loki still has a few more chapters to digest. He huffs, completely annoyed at the distraction. “Why are you here, Thor? Don’t you have class?"

”Mom called… wanted me to get you some food.”

“Where is it then?” Loki studies the state his brother’s in. Rumpled clothes, old Crocs, and genuine _bed hair _.__  Frigga must have woken him up too soon, and Loki proves himself right when Thor snores into the backrest of the couch. “Thor!”

Loki hurls a pillow into his face.

“Alright, I'm up.” Thor drags himself up, glaring at him. “I’ll get you food from the cafeteria.”

Loki adjusts his hospital gown. “Fine. I’ll come with.”

“What? You’re not supposed to be walking around.”

The wheelchair is placed right next to the window, and Loki’s eyes glint at the sight of it. Thor is quick to follow his gaze.

“You can’t be serious—”

Loki laughs, completely delighted with the misery written across Thor’s face. Of course, he doesn’t really need the thing, but Loki certainly enjoys the idea of having Thor wheel him around and indulging him in his relentless boredom.

“Come on, brother. Help me up.”

****…** **

“Thor, why don’t you take a seat for a bit.”

Thor looks up from where he’s supposed to get up from his desk, prepared to bolt towards his next class so he could join their football training. He still holds both his and Loki’s textbooks, with several other reviewers stashed in his bag. Professor Selvig gestures to the seat in front of his desk, and Thor trudges forward to take it.

“Is this urgent?”

“I could ask you the same,” the man chuckles, but Thor could only stare. Eventually, Professor Selvig sighs, getting up from his chair and leaning against the desk. “How are you holding up for finals?”

“Same old,” says Thor, chuckling. “Formulas get messed up in my head.”

“Football having you pressured?”

“Not really.” He shakes his head. “I’m mostly not worried about that. Three years back-to-back championship, how's playing against Alabama going to be different?”

Professor Selvig hums in agreement. He’s one of Thor’s closest professors, simply because they share the same interest in football. Only, he doesn’t really know why he’s been called up here today.

Then—

“And your brother?”

Of course. Thor looks down, clicking his tongue, thinks about what he could say. “He’s alright. Recovering.”

“Will he be able to get out soon?”

“I don’t know,” Thor says because it’s true. And a second later, “I hope so.”

Professor Selvig is patient with him, Thor notices. The look on his face is not something that resembles judgement, and Thor’s received a lot of those back then. He and Loki haven’t exactly been close, but Thor knows that this man holds something very close to concealed fondness over his brother whenever Loki corrects his formulas in class. Perhaps someday, those two could get along. Thor will look forward to it. They still have time.

As if sensing the uproar in his head, Professor Selvig takes a seat next to him, perhaps in a way to lessen the tension. “How did this happen to him?”

Thor knows they’re no longer talking about the recent incident. So it’s a while before he speaks. He hasn’t opened his heart about this ever since it happened.

“It was his birthday,” Thor starts, staring at his fingers. “I knew the water was too cold, so when Loki asked me to swim with him, I told him I’d stay and watch him instead. Mom and dad weren’t around that time. There was no one else to watch him.”

He swallows, forcing himself to speak calmly.

“He was always stubborn, you know?” His fists clench on the desk. “Crashed into the water, got caught up in waves. He couldn’t breathe, so fluid backed up into his lungs. Apparently, that’s what happens your heart is too weak. I got him out just in time, called an ambulance, and when he was examined in the ER, the doctors saw something. A muscle inside his heart had genetically grown larger than normal, which made it difficult to work under such… circumstances.”

Thor shakes his head, suddenly overwhelmed.

“I knew what the doctor’s words were, but I never understood what they meant until now. Since then, Loki has been living off his adrenaline blockers to keep his heart from working too hard. Now it’s worse because the swelling got larger.”

“How long—?” Professor Selvig doesn’t finish the question, but Thor understands in all the same.

“We don’t know yet,” he says. “Finals are coming up. He needs to be here to brag about his grades again.”

That earns him a low chuckle, random but genuine. Thor doesn’t understand why he’s suddenly feeling gloomy, as if he’s only holding onto chances. Onto promises that appear too vague to be possible.

“Loki’s been one of my smartest students in the long run.” Professor Selvig reaches over to his desk and retrieves a business card. Thor reads the text printed above it. “I doubt he’d fail, but that’s my website. I’ve been holding online classes for a while.”

“Thank you,” Thor breathes, and he means it.

Professor only pats his shoulder as Thor goes through the door. “Look out for your brother. He’s a good kid.”

Those words resonate with him throughout the whole day.

****…** **

As they stroll through the hospital halls, Thor glances down at his brother from time to time.

“So,” he drawls while Loki keeps on giving out the directions toward their target location. “Calculus finals. Only a few weeks away.”

“Oh, you want to talk about that?” Loki tugs at his arm when Thor tries stirring them to the wrong door. “Remember what I told you, Thor. Formulas fall useless if don’t understand what it is you’re trying to solve for. You’re a senior, one would think you'd grow tired of the same things being thrown in your face.”

“So I’ve been told. I’m not a smartass like you.”

“Well.” Thor could practically _hear_ the smirk in Loki’s voice. “You should turn here.”

They run into several patients, most of them walking out and about with the assistance of nurses and caregivers that look too young for their jobs. A group of children brushes past Thor’s legs, one of them using him as an effective hiding spot before a girl his age finds him and they run off together.

Thor sighs. “This isn’t the cafeteria, Loki.”

“To be fair, I’m not actually hungry.”

Thor wheels his brother further into the garden, finding the place rather wide for the great crowd of patients currently occupying the area. A fountain built beneath a sculpture of the great Ares is situated in the center lawn, surrounded by children who stand over the stones around it to peek into the pond. They remind Thor of brighter days, of the freedom granted in his youth which he all but took for granted.

Loki gestures to an empty bench under a column of trees, claiming they could best find some shade. Thor rolls his eyes, pushing the wheelchair towards the bench nonetheless and locking its wheels beside him.

They could be eating right now, and Thor’s stomach seems to be screaming, but he doesn’t do anything to point it out, not wanting to disturb his brother as Loki scans the area with an unreadable expression.

“These handicapped people…” Loki starts. “The amount of therapy they go through to relieve phantom pain.”

Thor follows his gaze to where two middle-aged men cross the pavement with their identical crutches. “Must take some getting used to.”

“Imagine losing an arm, Thor,” Loki snorts. “Either way, I won’t be willing enough to drive you.”

“Of course, you won’t.”

Then Loki pulls out a book from nowhere and begins turning pages.

“So what, you’re just gonna read now?” Thor shakes his head. “What do I do then?”

“Watch over me?”

Thor scoffs. “I thought you hated that.”

Loki visibly contemplates the statement before grinning. “Keep me company then.”

Though Loki’s hands are spread over text on the cover, Thor knows it’s a different book, not something he remembers retrieving from the campus. “What are you reading anyway?”

“Advanced Calculus,” Loki replies without taking his eyes off the page. “It’s on the reading list from the website you gave me, which I should really thank you for.”

Thor hesitates with a smile, watching his brother as he skims through the text with such ease that Thor sometimes forgets how smart Loki actually is. He briefly recalls the conversation he’s had with Professor Selvig yesterday after Calculus.

It different, watching Loki like this; isolated from the comfort of their campus’ libraries and instead camped out in the hospital garden with his small number of textbooks. Thor wonders if his brother would experience any setbacks with his finals, if there would ever be a time where Loki eventually fails in one of his tests all because of the situation he’s in.

But as he watches his brother read with this familiar stubbornness, Thor considers the possibility unlikely to happen.

****…** **

The sun has only set low beneath the horizon, hues of scarlet now fading completely from the view outside the windows. Loki immerses himself in paragraphs explaining the advance development of atomic theory, finding comfort within the dimmed lights over his bed and the silence that echoes throughout the room.

He startles when the door creaks quietly and looks up to meet the source of the sound.

“Sif,” he breathes, smiling. “I didn’t know you were visiting.”

Sif returns a grin. “I didn’t either. Thor actually drove me here.”

“Did he,” Loki says flatly. “Where is he now?”

“Downstairs, hogging the cafeteria food.”

Loki chuckles the same time Sif grins and occupies the chair placed closely to bed, the sound of their faint laughter filling the atmosphere. The sight of his friend rids him off his worries, allowing him to momentarily forget the heaviness that has recently begun weighing on his chest.

Sif radiates even with the circles underneath her eyes, undoubtedly developed from all the studying she’s had to do for their upcoming finals. She comes in soft leathers that are fitted for the chill of early November, hair pulled in her usual ponytail that Loki so enjoys pulling whenever Sif gets on his nerves.

Loki sets his book down, turning his attention to her. “Why were you even together in the first place?”

“I stopped by the field to look for Fandral, but Thor was the only one training over time,” she shrugs. “Said he was heading to the hospital, and I figured I’d visit. Georgia State doesn’t have a lot of cunning faces you know?”

Loki shoves her shoulder. “You probably just got bored of having no one to compete with in AP History.”

Sif mock gasps. “I do _not _.__ ”

“Feigning innocence, then?” Loki grins, warming up around her. “Scoot over, you’re interrupting my reading.”

But Sif beats him to it. She grabs the book on his lap and flips to the specific page he’s been trying to digest for the past ten minutes.

“Oh good, you’ve been studying.” She keeps flipping before she stops on a page full of questionnaires. “Right then. Go ahead and tell me what you’ve learned.”

Loki lifts an eyebrow. “Did you seriously come here expecting me to tutor you?”

Sif rolls her eyes but grins anyway. “Let’s be honest, that’s going to do _nothing_  but feed your ego.”

She joins him in his laughter, and Loki finds himself wishing to spend another normal day in the library, drowning himself in pages and wasting the time sitting in-between bookshelves and exchanging questions with Sif.

Which is why he relives the memory in the small space of his room.

“Let’s begin with radioactive decay.”

Loki dissects the chapters into sub-topics, tackling biographies of physicists responsible for the development of atomic structures and properties they once theorized with. Halfway into the fourth physicist, Sif steals the book from him with an exaggerated eye roll, claiming that she’s already known about those theories as she’s minoring in Chemistry.

“What’s it like?” she asks a moment later, when Loki begins to strain from sitting up far too long and decides to lie back down on the bed. “You know. Putting up with all these scans. Being pinned down for observation when you could well be beating my ass in class.”

Loki stares at her, weariness dripping in his voice. “Apart from the fact that I’m most likely going to miss finals, it’s nothing new. This treatment from the doctors as well as my family… it’s been happening since I was a kid.” He shrugs. “I got used to it.”

“You were never admitted, though,” Sif frowns. “Thor said it’s the first time in a while that you had to stay in the hospital for this long.”

“Yeah, it has been a while.” Loki offers a smile, not wanting to press any further. “Tell me, is there truly no one else brave enough to stand up to you in History?”

They lose themselves in conversations about school in general, what Loki has missed from class and how Sif usually ends up spending time studying at home instead of working past office hours in the library just because Loki isn’t present to accompany her. And it’s refreshing to see a new face in his room when it’s mostly the silence that greets him together with the night that creeps in as he sleeps alone. These hours he’s only been occupied with books and regular visits from Sigyn that he’s missed the experience of actually being able to spend time with a close friend of his.

Sometime later, Thor enters the room with the food he’s brought from the cafeteria. He places it on the nightstand next to the bed before taking the couch. Loki watches with a smile. “Thanks, Thor.”

Time quickens after that. Sif gets on her feet slowly after taking up the edge of the bed, leaning down to give Loki a brief hug before collecting her bag. “Hey Thor, why don’t I start the car this time?”

Thor fishes for his keys on the nightstand. “Uh, why?”

“Because.”

“Oh. Alright, then.”

Sif catches the key when they’re tossed to her, and leaves the room quietly.

Loki watches the exchange, fairly amused at his brother who stands at the foot of the bed. “You’re having car problems?”

“You could say that.” Thor chuckles. “Though I think it’s holding up quite alright without your reckless driving.”

Loki snorts, partly offended. “There’s nothing wrong with my driving, doofus. You just gotta learn to take risks.”

“That’s a challenge then,” Thor says. He cracks a small grin which Loki finds himself mirroring. And Loki's felt colder these days, always leaving the windows open for fresh air to enter, but with Thor around, he wills himself to ignore it entirely. Thor invites himself on the edge of the bed, throwing Loki a curious glance. “Did you go through those tests today?"

“Oh, two of them,” Loki groans inwardly. “Cardiac MRI with this nosy doctor from the radiology department who keeps throwing personal questions. God, what an asshole.”

“Technically, all doctors should be nosy.”

“Like you’d know.” Thor bristles for a moment, but Loki doesn’t really mean anything by it. “Anyway, the next one was a CT scan. Thankfully, the guy got paged into the ER so Sigyn took over the procedure.”

“Who’s Sigyn?”

“My attending nurse,” Loki clarifies. “She’s quite alright. Talks quietly enough. Honestly, I think she’s older than she looks, but I don’t find her presence bothersome because she doesn’t exactly treat me like a child.”

Thor nods. “You think you did well?”

“I don’t know.” Loki shakes his head, not really in the mood to talk about it much further. He kicks Thor in the hip which earns Loki a deep groan. “Are you driving Sif to the campus?”

“I would, but she asked me to drop her at the gym.” Thor is forced to retreat from the bed, rubbing his hip with a weak glare. “You’re even more annoying when you’re stuck in bed.”

Loki releases a breathy chuckle. “Good that you know.”

“Right.” Thor keeps backing away until he has a hand on the doorknob. “Text me if you need anything.”

“Alright. Drive safely.”

With one last glance, Thor is gone.

Loki sighs at the book on his lap, too mentally drained to suck up another page of paragraphs. Almost immediately, the room grows silent again, nearly empty if not for the illusion of Loki’s silhouette that dances across the walls. A quick glimpse at the clock tells him it’s only nine in the evening, but Loki tucks in earlier than usual and hopes for a dreamless slumber.

He wakes up later past midnight clutching at the sheets, coughing up what he prays isn’t blood until he thinks all the air has left his lungs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you think? Kudos and feedback will be appreciated! :) 
> 
> Also, you can drop asks on my [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/shattered-loki) and check the Thorki manips I did if you want to :)
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There seem to be... complications. Loki doesn't take it easily, and Thor has tantrums.
> 
> (cw: depictions of hyperventilation)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for sticking around! I'm so happy for having your support. Love you guys 3000 :)
> 
> More and more plot coming up!
> 
> Enjoy!

 

“What you experienced last night were palpitations.” Sigyn busies herself with Loki’s right arm as she inflates the armband wrapped around him. “They’re episodes of your heart beating in a very rapid rate and they make you all the more lightheaded.”

Loki knows what they were, he just needed to hear her confirm it. No need to look so troubled now.

And sure, lightheaded is a great way of putting it, but Loki had definitely spent a few seconds struggling for air last night even as he willed himself to calm the hell down and just fist the sheets like they were supposed to help in grounding himself. So yes, he wasn’t just lightheaded, he was fucking hyperventilating. But as Loki looks up at Sigyn’s face as she checks his blood pressure, he contemplates actually saying that part out loud. He’s not exactly sure about what it could mean for him.

To be fair, not being able to breathe for a short span of seconds isn’t really that painful, but it definitely isn’t painless either.

“One-forty over ninety.” Sigyn frowns, releasing the gauge and removing the armband. “Your blood pressure is higher than it should be. Are you sure you’re alright? Would you like some fresh air?”

“Not at the moment, no.” Loki looks down, clasps his hands over his lap. “What happens when the fluids stop working?”

Sigyn gives him a look. If it’s because of his display of interest, Loki doesn’t know nor does he care. “We’ll have to double your dosage, depending on how worse you get.”

“So, I _could_  get worse?”

“I could hope not.”

“What’s going to happen to me, then?” Loki presses, growing all the more curious as Sigyn heaves a sigh. “The swelling makes breathing harder for me and without adrenaline blockers to keep my heart stable, I could most likely experience a heart attack any time of the day. How worse could it get?”

“Look, Loki.” Something unpleasant twists in his gut. Loki looks away, calculating the odds even while he hears Sigyn list them all. “Your scans are still being transcribed, so there’s nothing we should speculate yet. If it makes you feel any better, it’s why I bother checking your vitals every single day.”

Loki doesn’t say anything. He lets her linger on the door.

“And get some rest, I don’t want you leaving the room.” Loki sneaks her a glance which Sigyn waves off. “Don’t give me that look, I’m not blind. I know your brother sneaked you out of here yesterday.”

She leaves without another word. Loki throws the sheets over his head in sheer frustration. The sun is shining too brightly and he’s a hundred percent certain that his eyes are on fire.

 ****…** ** ****

Thor is definitely running late for first period, but damn it all to hell. At least he’s managed to throw on a pair of sweatpants before the fifth ringing from his phone drops into voicemail again. And if he’s being completely honest, he’s been listening to the phone go off for a while, but when it just got annoying enough, he just had to swing his feet and make a beeline for it on the couch.

But it was a call from the hospital. Reliable guardian, they said. Parents weren’t answering, they said. You need to sign several papers sir because your brother’s in a growing state and we’d hate to authorize an alteration in his medication without consulting the family for consent.

And if he has an exam in macroeconomics in a little over an hour, well then. Damn it all to hell.

Thor runs into several nurses in the hallway, barely getting the chance to slip a rushed “sorry” before straight out colliding with another nurse and this time successfully knocking off the tray she carries with her hands.

“Crap. Hold on—”

“I can handle it.” The nurse stoops down before he could. “Also, your brother really needs to stay in bed.”

Thor snaps his head up, startled by the recognition. He’s met with the bored expression of a woman who’s only a few inches shorter than him, scarlet curls framing her face along with eyes that pierce with clear intent. This must be Sigyn then.

It only takes Thor another second to register that this is also nurse whom he'd spoken to on the first night in the hospital.

Of course.

He clears his throat. “You called about changing my brother’s medication?”

“Yes, though I need you to drop him a visit before we do the changes. Ask him about what he’s feeling, if he's going through anything else, I don’t know. Patients are more honest with their family.”

Thor only nods, already being left alone hovering by Loki’s door. He enters quietly, hearing a groan erupt from the obvious lump underneath the sheets.

“Let me guess. Sigyn called you.”

Thor shuts the door behind him. “What happened to you?”

“Don’t know, don’t care. Please stop talking, you’re making my ears hurt.”

Alright, now Thor is most certainly going to be late.

“Come on, get up.” He yanks the sheets from Loki’s body, exposing him from the waist up until Loki is scrambling to pull them back over his head. “I didn’t come here for nothing. What happened, Loki? I got a call earlier saying I needed to sign papers to consent to your new medication.”

“Right, well. They should have bothered telling you over the phone. Have you any idea that talking literally takes up so much from me?”

“Are having side-effects? Is that why you need a new prescription?" 

“Look at you, trying out some big words,” Loki throws him a look, one that easily grows into a scowl. “I’m getting palpitations, Thor. They’re not supposed to be happening, not when I’m on fluids twenty-four seven on narcotics that are supposed to be getting my heart to calm the fuck down. Do you get what I’m saying? I’m having _episodes_  again.”

Thor blanches. “I thought they stopped? You stopped getting those in the hospital when you were twelve.”

“Yes, well. You thought wrong.” Loki rolls over to face the other side of the wall, effectively avoiding Thor. “Technically, I was in some kind of remission phase when they gave me my last prescription, which I’ve been taking for the past six years. You’d know that if you cared.”

Thor only sighs, refusing to take the bait. “I called mom and dad, by the way. Told them to come over.” 

Loki glowers at him.

“You didn’t need to do that, Thor,” he snaps. “They’re busy people. Very, very occupied with their jobs, mind you. And honestly, I thought you’ve learned by now. Even without reaching to him, dad’s not gonna visit me in his own will.”

“And you’re now going to convince me that you could well handle yourself?”

“Isn’t that what’s happening?”

“Stubborn ass.” Thor shakes his head. “And yet, I'm the one who has to be here because I’ve been kissing your feet lately and you just didn’t feel like asking for our parents, did you? If I didn’t know how high your pride could go, I’d expect a text from you later on with all your little favors.”

That seems to shut Loki up.

“Don’t you have class, Thor?" he bites out. "Go on. You can leave.” Thor opens his mouth, but then— “Oh cut it out, for fuck’s sake. You have Economics with Sif, I know your ass is running late for your exam. You’re not exactly subtle.”

“Fine,” he doesn’t even deny it. “Glad to know you still care.”

“I could care less!” argues Loki. He chucks a pillow at Thor’s direction. “You know what? I’ll do just _that_ to annoy you. Pick up the textbooks from Professor Selvig. I need them for finals.”

“Fine,” Thor says yet again, totally taking the piss. He throws the pillow towards the couch before leaving the room.

****…** **

“Thor! What are you doing, man? Get the _fuck_ back in line before Coulson benches you!”

He could barely hear Fandral between the loud launching roars before his eyes see red.

Thor is on the offensive, but he’s been going through a rough position with this senior from their team. A linebacker named Bjorn, barely associated with Thor as he’s always ended up being benched by Coulson before the first half of their games all because he just couldn’t _click_ with the team _ _.__

They’re running through tackling drills, separate teams aiming to meet the carrier ball in a good hitting position at the signal of Coulson’s whistle. Thor starts off with a good sprint, vision swarming with clear tactics for their team to succeed in this half of the game when Bjorn shoves him away from the line, knocking Thor into a mild limp before he could even raise his hand for a time-out. 

Somehow, Thor has become the linebacker’s target for absolutely no reason, though he figures the motivation behind all this must be Thor’s superiority over the team. He isn’t even appointed captain, but he’s important enough to _unintentionally_ outshine one of his teammates.

“Odinson!” That’s Coulson now. It’s a warning enough, but despite the threat, Thor allows his fist a rough swing across the linebacker's face, driven by the frustration that's building up inside his head.

Bjorn staggers back for a beat, a sight that Thor relishes in as a pair of arms grip his own shoulder pads to anchor him down. But Fandral is weaker (as much as Thor would hate himself to admit) and his hands are barely helping Thor from reaching for Bjorn again.

“Hey, Thor! Calm down, buddy.”

Thor detaches himself from Fandral's grasp. “I’m not fucking calm! This asshole is blowing his own arrogant head over!”

And indeed, the guy isn’t certainly done with him. The rest of his teammates haven’t been aware of the incident that happened so indiscreetly earlier, but with what they’re witnessing now, it’s probably grown obvious that Thor is the one who started it this time.

Bjorn drives and catches Thor’s shoulder pad just below his neck, stopping him from sprinting and crushing his windpipe in the process. As Thor retches, he begins to understand the ridiculousness of the situation. He evades a fall to the ground with the help of Volstagg, who’s now assisting Fandral as they keep Thor upright.

Bjorn is dragged away with so little restraint that Thor finds himself lucky to witness the guy finally deflating before he gets benched on the semi-finals.

He allows Fandral and Volstagg to drag him away toward the locker room, only to be stopped by a fuming Coulson.

“We don’t argue with fists on the field, Odinson,” he admonishes. “Especially not with the team.”

He could this be his fault? Thor could only shake his head. He’s not in a position to be throwing out complaints right now.

****…** **

The whole incident on the field manages to pull Thor from his focus for a whole longer span of time. He sulks through his next class, contemplating whether he should ditch the last two periods in Business Marketing and deciding at last on his resolve to sit through another two hours and scribble down notes as much as he can.

He’s in a pretty shit mood today, but he can’t just risk failing in his major.

Coulson puts him on prohibition for the rest of the afternoon, including the training they go through past class hours which usually stretches until eight in the evening. The penalty honestly isn’t much, seeing as he’s not really the first one to lay hands on the team during practices before, but that's still six hours off the field. Six hours without being able to stretch and channel the anger burning in his veins into far launches across the grass.

So he drives home after his last period, gripping the stirring wheel with the brutality he doesn’t really understand. The drive is long, but he’s missed Frigga. His father not so much. Perhaps it’s because he’s still tapping on the surface of Odin and Loki’s conversation the other day.

Thor arrives with a cloud over his head, one that makes him slam the front door a little too loud, eventually evoking Odin’s distress as he pokes a head from his study.

“Do not bring your tantrums here, my boy!”

Thor sighs, walking into the lounge. He plops against the couch, avoiding Odin’s eye as the old man strides in.

“Your coach called.”

“Fuck that.”

“Do not cuss around me!” Odin roars, and Thor reluctantly slips in a quiet apology. Odin takes the seat next to him. “Coulson offered to discuss your behavior on the field in tomorrow in person. What have you done to provoke the authority over the team that I must appear in the dean’s office? I did not raise a child to use hands when dealing with their problems!”

Fucking hell. He’s not going to get out of this soon.

“Dad," he sighs. "I’m sorry, alright,” he cuts Odin mid-sentence as the old man discusses the misfortune of physical violence in sports. “My day started terribly and this guy was getting on my nerves. And I know I literally have no place to say this, but it wasn’t exactly my fault he was being a douche.”

“You’re distracted,” says Odin, wholly in an accusatory tone, and _of course_  he would ignore every chance that Thor has to defend himself. That’s not new, at least. “You fail to separate most of your personal problems from the field and I will not tolerate a behavior as such. Are you even studying? I didn’t put you through college just because you’re in the varsity!”

Thor could only sigh. “I know, dad.” And he means it. “I won’t fail finals, I swear.”

Odin only regards him with his eye before standing. “Do better, my boy.”

When he leaves, Thor searches in the kitchen for Frigga. It’s rare that they all see each other in the house at the same hour of the day, but Thor knows that his mom takes usual breaks on Thursdays, and he’s certain that he’ll be able to talk to her this time without rushing.

He finds her slicing potatoes on the counter. “Hey, mom.”

“Hello, dear.” She moves from her position to kiss his cheek. “You’re home early.”

“Prohibition.” Thor takes the stool in front of her. “Did you visit him?”

“Yes.” Frigga returns to her spot, setting the blade aside. Then she frowns at him. “Your brother wasn’t very happy to see me.”

He bristles. “I don’t know anything. That’s none of my business.”

And indeed, it isn’t. That’s beyond his radar now, what Loki seems to be doing. _He’s only being a brat_ , Thor likes to tell himself. An insufferable brat specifically to their mother of all people.

Despite the quiet voice of reassurance he likes to reserve for himself, the frown that stretches far wider across his mother’s face tells him that he’s wrong.

“Thor,” she begins, in that tone which Thor has learned better to take seriously when he used to ignore the subtle warning in it as a child. “He trusts you the most. Ever since your father failed to keep a constant eye on your brother, Loki’s been leaning towards you even as you fail to notice.”

Alright. Now his head is hurting. “That doesn’t make sense at all.” He throws a questioning glance at his mom. “Didn’t I fail him before? Isn’t that why he so often pushes me away?”

“But you’re not letting go of him,” Frigga points out.

“That’s because I’m not supposed to.” He sighs, obviously drained and close to collapsing on the stool as he maintains a slouch. “I’m exhausted. Coach banned me from the field, finals are screaming in my face, and dad’s tailing me.”

“He’s never without reason, your father,” Frigga reasons, like the good wife she is, always so defensive. Sometimes, it makes Thor’s stomach churn. “I’m disappointed, Thor. I know you have a bad temper; your brother always told me about it, but you’ve never once brought it to the field.”

And he doesn’t say anything about that, because in all honesty, he actually has nothing to say for once. Goddammit.

“Anyway.” She begins to slice the potatoes again, visibly aware of Thor’s reluctance. “Your brother asked for you this morning, not us. I’m not going to pretend I know why he’s suddenly avoiding us, and I won’t ask you. Do you usually bring him food?”

“He gets food all the time, that’s the hospital’s job. I just bring in what he wants, not what he needs.”

“Loki didn’t speak to me about that. And you’re the one who sees him often. Your dad and I must be missing out on other things.”

“Mom.” Thor sighs yet again. “Why don’t you just visit him more often?" 

_Why is it me? Why does it always have to be me?_

“Well.” Frigga actually stops cutting. “Your dad—”

“Forget about that, it’s not worth bringing up.” Thor stares at her with all seriousness, desperate to get her to see the way he sees things. “The point is, you _can _.__ And I know you see the best parts of Loki every time, but you rarely see how he is around me these days. He feels he has to bottle himself up around me, mom, I know. I can see it. He needs to see you more often. A new face.”

Worry washes over Frigga’s features. “You may be wrong.”

Thor shakes his head. “He’s never lied to me about that. We’ve grown distant, and yes I may have been there for him on other days, but the wall between us… it’s still there.”

She seems to regard him, at least. “You know that I visit when I can.”

And he does. His mother serves as a nurse in a hospital on the other side of town, who also dedicates twelve hours of her day to people who are desperately hanging on the edge and who are apparently not her son. Her busy schedule is understandable, it is. But surely there are other ways.

“So why not just take a leave?”

At this, Frigga also seems to grow silent. Thor wishes he could read her better, but Loki has always outmatched him at the skill. He sighs, kissing her cheek and turning away from the kitchen. “Send him chocolates, if you need to. You’ll probably earn his favor back.”

_What if it were as easy as that?_

But Thor has stopped asking himself that question a long time ago.

 **…**  

The first time Loki experiences weird… sensations in his chest, it's only been a few days since the accident on the beach. He’s still in the hospital, on his eleventh day to be specific, and his doctor has sharp piercing eyes that intimidate him just enough to make him shake his head and say—

“I don’t feel anything, doc.”

 _I don’t feel anything. I don’t feel anything._  Do you feel any pain, Loki? No, he doesn’t feel anything because the fact that his heart is beating so hard in his chest it could break his rib cage is fucking terrifying and he finds himself growing afraid to even admit that to either of his parents.

And Thor… dear gods, Thor.

Thor is frowning at him, plastered at Frigga’s side at the opposite side of the room as if a single touch from his younger brother could damage a hair on his skin. And Loki __hates__  that frown, hates how it curves an inch deeper than a frown that should _say are you alright, brother,_ because this frown… this frown on Thor’s face is screaming _what on earth is happening to you?_

Even as a child, Loki knows the signs of sympathy. He’s seen it when Thor held his hand on the first night in the emergency room, he sees it as Thor turns to Frigga and points at the tubes inside Loki’s nostrils, he sees it when Thor hugs him goodnight at seven o’clock every night before Odin takes him home because Loki _knows_  that Thor would have classes the next day, and that the small innocent goodnight actually translates into _oh no, Loki, y_ _ou’re stuck here for another day._

And you can give Loki anger any day. Give him frustration, give him weariness. Because even as a child, Loki knows how to stray himself from mislaid pity.

They’re all staring at him now as he lies underneath a small bundle of sheets on the bed, Frigga’s evident concern on her face weighing down the rest of their wary expressions, the question from the doctor fresh and floating heavily in the air. He’s grown used to lying, but his family doesn’t know that. Odin only reproaches him with a cold eye, Frigga thinks him pure, and Thor considers him something so fragile which he himself must protect.

Pathetic. All of it. The bravery they make use of to mask the fear beneath their eyes, lies which they themselves have to put up just for him, just so Loki can consider his family strong.

The question is repeated between constant beats of silence. The doctor sighs and tries to muster a calm expression. “Do you feel any pain, Loki?”

But the smile Loki feigns is deemed award-winning.

“I don’t feel anything.”

When the doctor finally leaves the room with the certainty that the medications are working, Thor bids Loki another goodbye, with Odin holding one of his arms as he waits by the door. Frigga reaches for his older son to leave kisses on his head, and clings onto Odin’s chest for a moment of silent reassurance. They’re scared, all of them, and Loki knows this. They’re trying so very hard to hide that from him.

So when he and Frigga are left alone, Loki rolls to his side to leave the hint that he needs to rest. Though if he were to admit, he’s only hiding from her so he could conceal the pain that’s slowly creasing his features.

The fluttering in his chest doesn’t stop. It squeezes, it burns, and it scares him. It doesn’t stop for a long time, and so for a long time, Loki takes to carefully hiding it from them.

****…** **

The next episode happens to be so sudden that Loki startles on the couch next to the window and drops the glass bowl of stew on the floor from the shock.

 _One, two, three_ , he counts in his head. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Take deep fucking breaths even though you could barely breathe.

But those numbers do nothing to soothe his pathetic chest. It squeezes and squeezes until he’s under the illusion that the air that escapes through his now agape mouth is nothing but a fragment of the treasure he has taken for granted as a child.

His chest squeezes until his tears are threatening to spill, until his fingers are clawing desperately at his neck in hopes of controlling himself to inhale in equal steady breaths.

He could call Sigyn. Thankfully the hospital had been wise enough to install telephones that direct straight to the nurses’ station just down the hall, but fuck, it’s right above the nightstand, and Loki is stuck on the couch, so far away that he could really start laughing at the ridiculousness he’s being made to deal with.

So no, he can’t call Sigyn. He can’t call anyone. There’s an oxygen tank next to his bed for a reason, but Loki has forgotten to attach the damn tubes and he’s just so close, so _close_ to losing it. Losing what, he doesn’t know, doesn’t think, cannot fucking think because that’s how messed up he gets when he’s suffering through these palpitations.

So he stays there, gripping the edge of the couch, enduring the aftershocks that course through his veins afterwards, making him lightheaded, and still very convinced that his heart has just ripped itself from his rib cage.

Loki returns to the bed immediately once his chest grows calm, regretting not having taken Sigyn’s advice as he should have. The sheets keep him warm, a false comfort that could only rid him of the haunting tremors until he gets them again. These… episodes. They stopped for a reason, and the fact that Loki’s getting them again even with proper medication is definitely not something he should ignore.

That night, he weeps. Silently. Believing he could better scream in his dreams than bring himself any more unwanted attention from the nurses outside his room. He thinks about Thor, remembers the pity on his face when he was still a young golden child, and Loki falls asleep with the realization that no matter what he does, no matter how much he’ll try to hide it again, Thor will always, _always_  find out.

**…**

When Thor opens the door to his dorm room, Fandral and Volstagg are sat across from each other on the floor. The look they share with him comes as anything but pleased. Still, Thor ignores them as he makes a beeline for his bed.

“You know you could always talk to us, mate.” It’s Volstagg, the father figure among them three. He’s looming over Thor’s bed. “We have issues, we throw a fit. It’s normal, happens to a lot of us, and it’s normal to talk about it.”

Thor throws him a disbelieving look. “Do I need an excuse other than the guy was a douche?”

“We’re not asking for excuses. We just need to get a look into your head because, to be honest…" he frowns. "You’re acting very far from yourself, my friend.”

Sigh. They're right. They’re being completely rational at the moment, and being such great friends that Thor would seriously consider kissing their boots if they ever continue to be this kind all the time.

When he doesn’t answer, Fandral claps his shoulder. “I spoke to Coulson, spent a few minutes talking about you.” He clears his throat when Thor quirks an eyebrow at him. “After putting Bjorn on extended prohibition, of course. Coulson’s not stupid. He knows what happened before you attacked that guy.”

Thor snorts. “Serves him right.”

“Well, you see, Thor. He _knows_.”

“Knows what?”

Fandral almost looks sorry. “That you’re going through… a very rough time in between—”

“Doesn’t matter,” Thor says sharply, effectively cutting him off. But when he notices the way Volstagg is nodding at him, as if he’s _understanding_ him, Thor is quick to retreat. “I don’t care whether you know or whether the whole team knows. That’s not important. It’s not—” he sighs, hanging his head low. “Alright, fuck.”

He’s deflating. Thor knows that he is, and damn everything if the walls he’s built around himself are only just crashing down at his feet. He hasn’t noticed that there had even been walls in the first place.

“Hey.” Volstagg occupies the seat next to him on the bed. “How long did he have to stay in the hospital the last time? When you guys were younger.”

Thor doesn’t even have to think. “A month.”

“Well, it’s only been days this time, Thor.” Volstagg throws an arm over his shoulders. “He’ll get out.”

He and Fandral slip through the door after hours and hours of conversation. Thor sits idly in the corner, watching the world around him continue on, and when he’s left alone, he finds his car and rolls across the empty roads to make peace with his worries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Do tell what me what you think. Kudos and feedback will be appreciated :))


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor begins to pick up a few signs, and Loki tries very hard to hide them away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the continuous support!
> 
> Anyway, things are happening now.
> 
> Enjoy!

 

For the next two days, Loki busies himself with several medical blogs on the internet. They all feature patients who have shared their earnest experiences upon dealing with unexpected symptoms and Loki takes his time browsing through the blogs to search for any case that's similar to his. One hour of reading turns into two, and the afternoons usually spent reviewing for his finals are replaced by a serious session of research that stretches into the night as much as his fingers allow him.

He can’t find enough information. Usually the symptoms Loki looks up shortly would stick out like a sore thumb among these websites, but right now it’s like he’s hit the bottom with a solid thump.

According to what he prays to be a reliable source, palpitations are likely to occur with blackouts that could pass up as fainting, as long as the time he spends lying unconscious wouldn’t expand far too long. Loki has had a fair share of these blackouts when he first started getting palpitations. His heart would flutter, as poetic as that sounds, and to rebel the strange hammering inside his chest, he would spend five to ten seconds clasping his eyes shut as they slowly begin to blur. He would struggle under a fit of confusion, trying to shake his head and rub his temples until his vision turns clear. But they don’t. As far as Loki had bothered to learn, blackouts don’t just end when you want them to.

And blackouts, Loki could handle. But experiencing sensations of his heart hammering inside his chest while he struggles to breathe completely for a pitiful number of seconds? Fuck no. That’s the sole reason why Loki is keen to understand this… _defect_ before any of the nurses around him notice.

Though the situation is different and entirely more drastic, he’s already gone through this as a child. And Thor might have still found out about these episodes even as Loki schemed to hide them when he was younger, but Loki can’t afford that now. Not when things do seem a little _troubling._

He wakes up without any trouble on Sunday, swallowing a glass of water to check if his throat feels clogged. Recently he’s been having trouble eating, bothered by the itchy sensation stimulated whenever he starts taking up so much food. So he eats less; not enough that he would starve, but less enough that he loss of energy is practically written across his face.

In fact, Sif notices it immediately when Loki FaceTimes her that morning.

“You called at a wrong time,” she grumbles, face hidden away outside the frame. When she reappears, her eyes are pulled together. “You look like shit ** **.”****

“It’s not like you weren’t going to answer anyway.” He rolls his eyes. “I’m fine, no need to go bat-shit hysterical with my brother again. Christ, Sif. One would think you’ll end up killing someone with your hands at your age.”

“What, people are having premonitions about my aggressively hostile habits now?”

“Well, consider me the first one.”

Sif’s laugh floats easily through the speakers, and for a second Loki pretends that she's presently sitting right beside him, shoving his shoulder just so he could scoff and feign a groan. He rolls to his side and props his phone against a pillow.

“Loki,” Sif says, drawing his attention back. She’s visibly frowning, looking at him through the camera as though trying to have a good read on him. “You haven’t sent me a single text, and despite Thor’s optimism that you’re alright, you’re obviously going through something. What’s going on?”

Loki sighs. “It’s just the drugs.”

“Are you certain?”

“A hundred percent.”

“Bullshit.” Sif shakes her head. “I honestly feel like I shouldn’t buy anything you’re saying unless I actually go there and see for myself.”

“You really don’t have to,” Loki insists. Despite knowing how he doesn’t really mean that, he should still insist. It’s what he does. Right? “I happen to feel drowsy at most times, but otherwise, I’m fine. You really don’t have to push.”

That makes her stop completely, saying nothing but offering the same concerned frown that remains stubbornly on her face. She sighs in turn but says in finality, “Alright.”

He’s grateful, at least, that Sif knows the way between his words, knows how to read through him despite his consecutive supply of lies. And he’s grateful that she says nothing, despite knowing everything he intends to hide.

It’s better that she doesn’t know the entire story.

“Are you in the library?” He squints at the screen, noticing the dim lighting over Sif’s face and the line of bookshelves behind her shoulder. “Organic chemistry that hard, huh?”

“Oh please,” Sif rolls her eyes. Her eyes occasionally flicker somewhere below, and Loki could guess that she’s reading at the moment. “It’s bearable. What isn’t bearable is Ms. Hill pouncing on us like the pre-lab assignment she asked about Adol Condesation needs to be submitted this afternoon instead of next week.”

Oh, the troubles of minor subjects acting like majors.

Loki releases a dramatic sigh. “Tell me about it.”

****…** **

When he returns to the field, it’s easy to allow the world around him fall into a static blur that does nothing but further encourage him into focusing. As expected, Bjorn is seen nowhere among his teammates, Coulson dismisses Thor’s overly-enthusiastic nod of appreciation when he sets to the locker rooms before practice, and both Fandral and Volstagg clap his shoulder with such an unnecessary force which Thor considers to be their unspoken welcome for him.

It’s oddly sentimental of them, really. But Thor shouldn’t expect less from his team who’s obviously leaning towards his favor, seeing as he’s been one of the selected players for championships before.

Things are going fairly good, truth to be told. He’s back to sprinting across the grass, managing several rounds of tackling drills without having anyone nearby to bother fucking with him. Despite being on cold-waters with their coach, Thor does not miss the approving nods Coulson sneaks in his direction during their drills. Thor might be a little too reckless sometimes, but he’s sure as hell one great player.

Which is exactly why he gets too caught up in football.

It’s what he does for the next two days after the fight with Bjorn, training hours on the field to make up for the time he’s missed on the grass, gathering the worries that continuously pile in his head and channeling them through overly-aggressive throws to the other side of the field. He hits one linebacker a little too hard, and Fandral drags him to the side to ask if things are spiraling down again.

“You can’t keep hitting them, Thor.” Fandral shakes his head disapprovingly.

Thor sighs and throws his hands up in defense. “I can’t help it.”

Classes roll by in overdue hours, teachers blabbering with unchanging bored expressions while Thor desperately tries not to succumb to the tempting idea of falling asleep in class as he’s been draining most of his energy on football training. _Keep up or don’t_ , Coulson had said, debriefing the team with the same wisdom required to put up a great game on the nearing Semi-Finals.

Economics with Sif manages to result in a bearable hour apart from the fact that the junior keeps sending him silent glances just behind his row. Thor keeps track of the number of times Sif tries to get his attention at the same time contemplating whether he’s even fully invested in the discussion being held at the moment or not.

The staring is harmless at first, but when it grows annoying enough, Thor just cannot stop himself from prying his attention from the teacher and staring at her while mouthing, “What?”

“Drive me,” she mouths back, then a little louder, “I want to visit, and it’s Friday anyway.”

“I have training tonight.”

“I'll borrow your car then,” she insists.

Thor shakes his head before giving her a disbelieving look. “Fuck no.”

Sif crosses her arms and lets out a displeased sigh of resignation. Thor takes the chance to ignore her and actually try to pay attention to their professor. Sif can find her own ride and visit whenever she wants, it doesn’t matter. It’s not like Thor’s actually compelled to do something about that.

The next few hours pass by with Thor sneaking breaks into the dorms to take a nap and jolting himself awake from the ten-minute alarm, returning to class as scheduled and anticipating the football practice that would happen tonight.

In between the rush, Thor allows his mind to slip for a moment, recalling the words he’s said to Frigga yesterday in a fit of misplaced frustration all the while bearing the pressure from his recent conversation with his father. And looking back, he begins to regret what he’s said, not because they’re true, but because they aren’t supposed to be addressed out there in the open.

He wasn’t supposed to admit that to her. _The wall between us… it’s still there._ Fuck that. What was he trying to accomplish? Get his mother know that whenever she calls him to visit Loki and keep tabs on him while he’s in the hospital actually felt like such a burden on Thor’s shoulders? Now, wouldn’t that just break her heart. 

And Thor supposes that he did, judging from the look on his mother’s face just before the left the kitchen. No wonder he was in a pretty gloomy place when he came back to the dorms last night. Fandral and Volstagg had been biting their tongues too, as Thor had noticed, not wanting to put more weight on his shoulders, like they were _pitying_ him. God, what a mess. 

And Loki… well. Loki hasn’t texted. And it isn’t like it’s Loki’s thing to be sending him texts in the first place, but if Thor has learned one thing from suffering all these years with his brother, it’s that Loki grows more needy when he’s sick. And temperamental, too. And fucking _demanding._

Which reminds Thor a day too late. Loki has asked for those textbooks from Professor Selvig and Thor still hasn’t gotten around to it.

So when Thor wakes up on Saturday, he goes to the Calculus professor’s office. The man doesn’t have any class, but considering that tests are practically piling up to prepare the students for Winter break, Thor’s confident to catch him in action.

Truth to be told, Professor Selvig has always been a perceptive man, and every now and then Thor would anticipate how every hour of his class would end in a short conversation about his brother afterwards. But this time, as Thor claims the books set neatly above the desk, Professor Selvig only casts him a dismissive glance, offering a silent smile before returning to his laptop.

The man doesn’t ask Thor about Loki, or his brother’s adjustment around the online classes, for that matter.

That night, Thor busies himself in football training, eager to get his muscles work out the tension that’s been building up in his sleep, but of course, the aggressive training proves useless even after hours and hours of drills. Thor just can’t seem to ease his mind for a damn second.

Which is why he drives to the hospital on Sunday, tapping his fingers as he grips the steering wheel in anticipation and occasionally sending glances at the books laid above the passenger’s seat next to him. He hasn’t received a word from his brother in two days.

The nurse named Sigyn stops him just as he passes by the nurses' station. “So, the brother’s back. Have you brought anything edible that suits his difficult tastes?”

“Uh, no.” Thor shifts on his feet, eyeing her hesitantly. “I’m sorry, is there a problem? Because I thought he was getting the best medical attention out here.”

“Oh relax, darling. I was only asking.” Sigyn continues to look unfazed as she arranges the bottles of antibiotics the on the counter. “It’s just that your brother has barely touched any of the food we’ve been feeding him, and no one has bothered visiting in the last two days.”

“What?”

Surely Sif did.

Right?

Before the nurse could even answer him, Thor is already marching across the whole floor towards Loki’s room. He doesn’t bother knocking before twisting the knob and slipping inside, only to be met by a sight that’s completely far from the signature scowl and the incoming trajectory of pillows that he’s been expecting to see.

Loki is sitting at the far edge of his bed, his bare feet dangling on the side while he maintains a slouch that further grows prominent when he breathes. His back is angled towards Thor, eyes unseen as he faces the window found on the opposite wall. He’s quiet, remaining unspeaking, giving off no sign at all that he’s ever noticed Thor’s presence.

And Thor shuts the door behind him, trying to be subtle as much as he could, and fails entirely when Loki shifts his head and meets Thor’s searching eyes with his dull gray ones.

“What do you want, Thor?”

For a moment, Thor just stares. Searching. Trying to comprehend what he sees because there's something off with the way his brother is staring at him. Loki’s glare is too weak, almost unintentional, and the absent scowl on his face is replaced by a thin line that speaks of his own reluctance to talk. Thor tries not to push, tries not to _ask _,__  holding himself back from yanking his brother back into his senses to ask him  _are you alright?_

Something plasters him onto the ground, but Thor forces himself to round the bed and grow closer to Loki to show him the books.

“ _Dynamical Systems_ , like you asked,” he tries. Loki’s eyes flicker to the first book cover, but he doesn’t budge.

Instead, he keeps staring.

And instead of pushing, Thor grabs the wheelchair parked by the IV stand and pushes it towards Loki’s legs. Loki all but glares at the two-wheeled chair, looking at it as though its very existence in the room personally offends him. Thor ignores this and taps at the handles suggestively. If Loki’s not going to talk, then perhaps they could just go on a ride.

Reluctantly, Loki accepts the invitation and slides down the bed to take the wheelchair. Thor wheels them both to the garden, ignoring the growing anxiety consuming his senses.

Neither of them say a word on the way.

Truth to be told, things do seem a little off. On other occasions, Loki would seize the opportunity to get Thor apologizing for his recent wrongdoings just to spite him for his own entertainment, but Loki does none of that sort as they pass through the busy hospital floors. He remains leaning against the backrest of the wheelchair, staring blankly ahead as he secures the books on his lap.

There are far less children in the garden than the last time they came here. Most of the people that even bother lurking around the place are just caregivers of some sort, walking with patients stuck with crutches as they stroll through the rows of trees.

Thor brings them to an empty bench, waiting for the moment Loki breaks his trance and indulges himself into browsing the pages of the book. When it doesn't happen, Thor tries not to grow affected. Something's wrong, but he waits. For what, he doesn't know, but that's not important now.

Loki has grown quiet, and Thor the oblivious fool, doesn't know what to do.

And they don’t speak. Not really. Not yet. Not when there’s so much to say all at once, not when the moment Thor sits in the silence with his brother is also the moment he begins to understand what his worries are about.

He begins to understand just _why_ he’s growing anxious.

“Have you prepared for finals?” Loki wonders, completely random that Thor snaps his head up at the first word. He doesn’t look at Thor despite being aware of the fact that he's being watched, though Loki's fingers take to fumbling with the spine of the books. Thor clears his throat and looks away.

“Semi-finals, yes.”

Loki snorts. “I’m not talking about football, Thor.” A small grin stretches across his face. “Although, I am curious. Sif did share an interesting tale lately.”

Thor groans. “If it’s about the fight the other day, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Well, I won’t pester, then. And though it may seem I’ve grown concerned over your performance in class, rest assured that I could really care less.” His voice grows quieter, but no less playful. “It’s just that dad insists that I exclude your involvement upon dealing with my classes.”

It makes Thor laugh, the way Loki bites that out with distaste. He is oddly reminded of that fact that Loki and their father have never really been that close.

“Mom keeps asking me about you,” Thor tells him, just to remind his brother that there’s another person who cares. “But I’m not your doctor. I don’t know shit. And she worries, you know.”

When Loki looks at him, the grin has disappeared. Thor takes a good stretch of seconds truly studying the state his brother is in, wondering how Loki— _Loki_  of all vain people—would let himself develop a thinness that’s far too odd from his natural lean physique. His cheeks are hollower, lips chapped but swollen enough that makes Thor question if his brother has developed a reoccurring habit of biting them. He doesn’t look good, far from that actually, and Thor wonders just how much of Sigyn’s little message earlier was true.

And when Loki speaks, he sounds tired. Out of breath. _Declining._ “She could visit more.”

“She has night shifts, Lo.”

If that disappoints Loki, his brother doesn’t say it out loud, settling with silent nod and casting his eyes across the garden. “I know.”

The stroll back to the room is silent, neither of them making a move to drive their last conversation forward. The quietness is enough to have Thor spacing out and wondering why he feels unaccomplished, but he finds himself rather inclined to respecting his brother’s silence and decides to leave things at that.

The wheelchair jerks forward as they encounter a broken tile and the books slide to the floor from Loki’s lap.  Thor halts in their path to stoop to the ground and grab the books when Loki catches his wrist in a tight grip and whispers, “Walk slower, Thor.”

Thor's body freezes. “Hey, you alright?”

He grabs Loki’s shoulders, needing to meet his brother’s eyes, but Loki evades his touch and offers no response, rolling his head to the side and slipping his eyes shut. Thor tightens his hands around him, searching for any sign of discomfort across Loki’s face. But when his brother doesn’t stir, Thor collects the books and resumes their stroll.

The second they arrive at the room, Loki curls into the sheets almost instantly. Thor takes the chair beside the bed, spending a short time watching his brother sleep and noticing how laboured Loki’s breaths sound. He thinks about staying, contemplating the idea of being there when Loki wakes up just to see if his brother would act any different by then. But he can’t, not yet. He can’t stay here if he has so much to think about.

For a moment, Thor wonders if his brother has only pushed himself to the point of exhaustion from all the excessive studying he's done, if Loki’s been working up all night that he forgets to reward himself with an adequate amount of sleep. But knowing his brother's behavior like the back of his hand, Loki would deny it all in one blink, claiming that he’s alright and that he knows what his work is costing his body.

So Thor leaves the room, leaving a mental note to check with the nurse later on to seek an outer observer. His head throbs as he loses himself in traffic, absentmindedly bouncing his leg on his seat as he grips the steering wheel with frustration.

Then he remembers. 

_What the hell happened to Loki’s two recent heart scans?_

…

The house is empty most times, but still it is rarely ever silent. Frigga’s humming from the kitchen would be a novelty to catch, filling the air with gentle whispered lyrics that always announce her presence. When she’s away, Odin seizes the chance to relive grand musical generations with his treasured record player, providing the illusion of his own sanctuary back in the 50s as he lies back and deals with his business.

Even after taking up the dorms with Loki, the house had remained stubbornly under their parents’ care. It would be empty the whole afternoon, but when the night comes falling and they all meet altogether for a feast or a simple night of dinner, everything would look exactly like when they were but children. 

Though with Loki away, the silence that does fill the house grows eerie. Everyone is either too invested in their own spaces to bother meeting in the lounge and exchange a couple of words or they’re all lost in their own trances, unable to focus, especially Thor.  _Thor_ who resigns to occupying himself outside in small habits because without his brother in the house, nothing ever feels… _normal._

So when he enters their house that night, he is surprised to hear faint sobs coming from Odin’s study.

He barges in the room to find Frigga nestled against Odin’s chair behind the desk, fingers concealing her face from the tears she's visibly trying to hold back. Thor rushes to her side and brings her into his arms. 

He hasn’t seen her cry in a long time, and for so many times, he’s made sure that he’d never have to see his mother cry the way she had when Loki—

No.

_Not yet._

“Mom?” Thor holds her tighter, his chest growing heavier every second that Frigga shakes in his arms. “You’re freaking me out. What’s going on?”

Frigga’s chuckle is muffled by the tight press of Thor’s chest against her head. She pulls away with a soft smile that does nothing to stop the frown that’s quickly making its way to Thor’s face. He kneels in front of her and listens.

 “I just want to see your brother, is all.”

Thor sighs, not really knowing what to say. The words are piling up in his throat and he wants to scream them out, but he doesn’t want to overwhelm his mother. She doesn’t deserve that yet. She cannot know of the worries Thor happens to end up burying at the back of his head all because he still cannot find the strength to address them.

So he takes her hand in his and squeezes, catching her eyes. “Loki misses you.”

Something goes off in her expression, and Thor watches the creases on her face disappear as her eyes radiate in evident hope. “Did he really say that?”

Her voice is teasing, as if she knows that even a man so talented with words cannot directly utter a sentence intended to carry genuine affection. Thor chuckles lightly at her question.

“Well… no.” He squeezes her hands once more. “But you know how he is with words.”

Her frown returns in an instant. “I try to visit him during breaks but I’m always held up by the staff. Visiting hours at your brother’s hospital end so soon that I cannot hope to catch him with the difficult schedule I have.”

“And dad?”

“Your father almost never has time. His clients demand his presence in two towns in a single day.”

Thor scoffs, finding it hard to digest that claim. “That doesn’t make any sense at all.”

“I wish things were different, but he has other matters to attend to. Matters which even I cannot control.” Frigga looks down at her lap, frowning at him as he looks up. “Hospital bills and such.”

It takes Thor a minute too late to realize that they’re in Odin’s study, and Frigga never enters this room unless she and Odin are arguing or if there is a pressing matter that they better tend to as quickly as they could.

He turns his head to the desk and finds opened envelopes on the glass, casting Frigga a look in turn. “Are you guys having trouble?”

That only deepens the frown across her face.

“I wouldn’t want to worry you my dear, but yes.” She releases his hands to stow the envelopes toward the edge of the desk. “We are struggling at the moment, but we will find a way. Your brother’s our top priority as of now, but you still need do well in your remaining classes. You’ll be graduating, my dear. Loki will need your help by then." 

Those words hit him somewhere deep down where it most takes him by surprise, signaling that his mother is out here saying words that well seal his place to be the Responsible Brother. He wonders if it’s because he’s the only one who can afford to act tough, and he thinks it probably _is_  the reason because Odin is far too gone in his business to bat a single eye and Frigga is too caught up in her work that she doesn’t even have the liberty to address her own worries without being interrupted.

Thor can do nothing but nod, bearing the weight of her words as they come. He plucks a receipt from one of the fallen envelopes on floor and begins inspecting. 

_Odin Borson._

“What is this?” he questions, turning the paper to see an unfamiliar name scribbled in black ink.

“Proof of transaction.” Frigga retrieves the receipt from him and stashes it into the nearest drawer. “No matter. You shouldn’t concern yourself with this. And don’t let your father know I told you about the bills.”

He could only nod, sitting up as he watches his mother leave. “I won’t.”

****…** **

“Your brother has been training more often these days. Makes me wonder if he’s taken to skipping classes if his constant visits here should be telling. Which reminds me, I got you another pack of crackers which you asked him for last week. Are you hungry?”

Loki stares at the sight of Frigga as she makes herself useful in the room, rustling through the cabinets in the bathroom to check if Loki's got everything that needs to complete his toiletries. She’s only been here for five minutes, but she’s buzzing as she works, going through every corner to check if there’s any food while Loki quietly reads her body language and takes the guess that she’s definitely unreasonably anxious. 

And when she is, it isn't really a good sign.

“Mom,” he tries, voice as soft as a whisper since his throat has begun hurting. Frigga stops midway into placing a bottle of shampoo in the cabinet, turning slowly to her son. “You didn’t have to.”

Frigga breaks from her trance, rushing to Loki’s side to grab his hand and squeeze. “Oh, honey,” she cries. “How are you? It's been two days since I last visited. I wish I was able to return sooner.”

_I told mom to take a week off work,_ Thor had texted him earlier.  _She's trying, Lo._

“It’s alright,” Loki whispers, going for the truth, not wanting to lie in front of her eyes. “Sif talks to me through the phone when she can."

“And your brother?” 

Well.

Thor, his impossibly down-to-earth older brother. Thor who brings him food and wheels him to the garden when it does nothing but add weight to Loki’s shoulders, always awaiting the moment Thor finally notices that something is wrong with Loki and that something is happening to his sickly younger brother that he would eventually need to _speak_  up.

Loki shivers from the thought alone of witnessing Thor’s concerned eyes even from a distance, watching that bright golden smile curve down to a sullen expression that speaks volumes of his own _pity _.__

No, Loki can’t let that happen. He can’t let himself watch as Thor goes about pitying him round and round.

So he forces a smile. “He’s alright,” then slides down the headboard to lie completely on his back once his muscle grow sore.

“Darling, are you alright?” comes Frigga’s voice, always the concerned mother who cannot seem to appear relaxed even as Loki tries his best to conceal the pain. “Does something hurt?”

He burrows himself into the sheets, feigning to rustle the thin blanket over his head when in fact he’s only stalling to give himself the smallest amount of privacy to clasp his eyes shut and just _breathe._

When he brings the sheets back down to his chest and exposes his face, Frigga looks ever more concerned, vague remnants of tears glistening visibly just around her eyes. Loki watches as Frigga brings his hand to her cheek and leans against him.

“I’m just tired, mom,” his tells her. Deep down, his chest tightens enough that it aches. “It’s okay.”

The last thing he sees before drifting off is Frigga pressing a kiss to the back of his palm.

_She's trying._

****…** ** ****

Thor tuns the phone over in his palm, thumbing through the messages in his inbox. “I don’t know, man.”

“Come on, Thor.” Fandral nudges his knee harsher this time as Thor appears delighted enough to keep ignoring him. “Coulson’s been knocking us out all week. Don’t you think we deserve a little night-out for ourselves?”

“But I have first period tomorrow,” Thor argues weakly.

The thing is, half of their team had voted for a ride to the nearest bar using the campus bus. The captain invited everyone (excluding Coulson, of course) and reminded them of the bus’ departure in two hours. But Thor spent those two hours lounging in his room for the lack of anything better to do and was _sure_  that he’d be able to pass up the offer of going through a round of drinks that night when at the very _last_ second, Volstagg arrives with an overly-enthusiastic Fandral and pleads Thor to come along.

“You don’t even have to drink,” Fandral negotiates. “You’ve become a dead man walking these days, Thor. Lighten up.” 

And truth to be told, it’s always been hard to say no to Fandral, especially not when the guy just so happens to be good at pushing everyone’s buttons so he could get what he wanted from them. And Thor, stuck between being a good friend and a good son, is left to decide where to head off once he leaves the dorms that afternoon.

The bar or the hospital.

But he knows that Frigga had come to visit that afternoon. Just before he left the house that morning, Frigga gave him the reassurance that she would do as Thor had suggested to file a leave from work so she could spend more days in the hospital. And checking the clock on his phone seeing that it’s only a quarter to six, he guesses that Frigga is still in the hospital.

“The bus is going to _leave_ , Thor. Let's go!"

Volstagg takes him by surprise when he pulls Thor’s feet and drags him down the bed. It seems like his friends have already decided for him, much to Thor's dismay.

Later that night when he's consuming his fourth bottle of alcohol, he’s far too intoxicated that he doesn't hear his phone ring. He pulls out his phone at two in the morning and finds five missed calls from none other than Loki.

****…** ** ****

He hears Thor playing outside in their backyard, laughing at the dog whenever she barks too loudly. They’re probably chasing each other away until one of them falls and gets dirt on their face. Loki whines quietly. “But mom.”

“Honey.” Frigga frowns, clutching the sheets and bringing them to Loki’s chin. The look on her face is too sad, too sympathetic, and Loki hates seeing it. “For the last time, I can’t let you out and play. Your body needs to rest and so do you.”

“But Thor is outside.” He feels shivers run down his spine but he ignores it, wanting to look strong and capable in front of his mother just so he wouldn’t have be stuck in this room. “The sun’s still up. I want to play with him too.”

What Loki expects to be a smile of pride on her face only turns into a sigh. He doesn’t know why he’s bothered by it, but surely Frigga can’t be mad at him. All he wants to do is go outside. He's only been home from the hospital for three days but he misses their backyard and he misses playing in it.

“I’ll get your brother for you.” Finally, Frigga rises from her place on the bed and leans to kiss Loki’s cheek. “You can read your books, but you can’t walk around. I love you.”

“Okay.”

When she closes the door, he lies back down on the bed as he studies the posters he’s hung on the walls, deciding that he should just wait for the soft thud of footsteps grow louder as they approach the staircase behind his door. If Thor takes any longer to arrive, Loki will just have to pick a book and read to kill the time.

But Loki never reads the books, and Thor never comes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you think? Kudos and feedback will be appreciated! :) 
> 
> Also, you can drop asks on my [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/shattered-loki) if you want to :)
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone finds out about the palpitations Loki has been experiencing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting so close to the difficult part, people! It's not going to be easy for Loki anytime soon. Though there will be a happy ending, I promise you. 
> 
> Also, I know Odin is still a huge asshole, but we will be shining the light on him in the future chapters.
> 
> Enjoy!

 

“You called last night?” Thor closes the door behind him a little too loudly, which makes himself wince in response because he’s had too much to drink last night. Fandral had been too good of a liar and introduced him to a whole table of alcohol bottles in the bar they visited, and having to be in the hospital this early on a Monday morning only makes Thor's head spin.

Loki spares him a glance as he breaks away from the book in his hands. He’s propped up all nicely against the headboard, hair slicked back and sheets pooling around his waist. “Gone out drinking again, I see.”

“I have a life too, you know,” Thor grumbles, to which Loki responds with a glare. “Sorry, that was uncalled for.”

Loki ignores him. “So, what is it today? Are you going to skip first period? Speech Com starts in an hour.”

“I’m going to skip,” Thor groans, plopping onto the couch. The swift motion causes his eyes to blur and he squeezes them shut when the ache inside his skull intensifies. “This was a bad idea.”

“Well, no shit,” he hears Loki say, then in a exasperated tone, “You should sit up, Thor. I don’t want you vomiting all over the leather.”

Thor snorts into the cushion. It always seems easy, slipping into their old dynamic like the children they once had been, refusing to grow up with the distance between them. It’s easy to forget that they’re only walking on eggshells, crossing a sheet of ice so thin that Thor fears crushing it beneath his feet.

And when it shatters under his incautious steps, he would be forced to acknowledge the bigger picture. He would be forced to _comprehend_ the idea of his brother confined to the bed in a number of days which refuse to be counted, that his mother is too overwhelmed from juggling her job with her own personal life, and that Odin, his own father, is nowhere to be seen when his second son is lying pliant in his hospital bed.

Last night had been a night of reflection for Thor. All the bottles he's consumed did nothing but crack the shell that’s been protecting the dark corner inside his head where he keeps his worries secluded. With every ounce of liquor he's gulped, he swallowed his own anxiety, thinking back to all the times he had failed to accompany his brother on his recovery process.

With every minute he spent losing his head to the blaring music, he was hit with the reality that their years as children, _Loki’s_  years as a sickly child, were coming back, rising to the surface for Thor to see once again, like a nightmare too frightening to refuse being forgotten.

The idea of Loki growing sick again once he’s finally older had once been a thought too vague for their family to consider.  _It's unlikely_ , the doctor had said when asked about it. But the damn woman spun her own lies, and Thor was too ignorant to notice the fact that even the most trustworthy doctor had been uncertain of the possible risks that would be brought by Loki’s condition.

As Thor stares at his brother from the couch, his head spins with flashes of a young pale boy, blessed enough with a brain so bright and a tongue sharp enough to talk himself out of childish mishaps. Thor remembers the boy finding his peace in the ocean, only to be swept painfully away by the raging waves.

Last night, he had remembered saving that boy. He still does, still remembers the flashes of their youth, both good and bad. Thor remembers a lot of things, but he doesn’t remember wiping the tears away from those pale stricken eyes. He remembers holding Loki’s hand on the first night in the hospital, but he doesn’t remember holding his hand on the days after that.

His head throbs, warning him to not overthink.

A loud _thud_  jolts him on the couch. Thor springs up on his seat to catch Loki using both hands to rub on his temples, the book long forgotten on the floor. “God, my head’s killing me.”

“Hey.” Thor forces himself on his feet to rush towards Loki’s side and stoop down to place the book atop the nightstand. “Are you alright? Stop reading for a while and lay down.”

“I can’t.” Loki shakes his head and reaches for the book, nearly ripping it apart as he flips the pages despite Thor’s protests. “The formulas are all wrong. Even the equations won't work. I can’t just stop becauseI need to finish this chapter for my exam next week.”

“Lo, you can’t work like this.” Thor steals the book away. “You’re exhausting yourself.”

“It’s just the fucking drugs, Thor,” snaps Loki. Thor lets it go, watches the faint glower on Loki’s face recede into a frown that doesn’t leave for a long time. For a second, it makes Thor feel bad. He has never understood Loki before, why should he know how his brother feels now?

He drops the book on the sheets. Loki more than gratefully pulls it away. “Stop bothering me.”

Oh, but _that_  hits a nerve.

“Bothering you?”

“Oh, cut the bullshit!” Loki bites out. “You show up in here biting your tongue, tiptoeing around me like I’m some sort of damsel that needs saving. I’m not going to die if you stop pretending you care, Thor.”

Thor clenches his fists. “Jesus fuck, Loki. I’m trying to _help_ you!”

But Loki only _scoffs _.__

“Well, that’s new,” he says, chuckling. “You think that’s gonna make up for all the times you left me alone back in the day? Where were you when I needed you? I see it all, Thor, I’m not fucking blind. You’re here but you don’t care and you don’t understand a single thing, and what’s worse is that you can’t do anything but fucking _pity_  me!”

He’s hit with flashes of angry waves and a boy calling out his name in distress.

“I saved you,” Thor tries, disbelieving, tearing his whole heart open just so he could bleed raw for his blind brother. “I pulled you out of the water, cried at your feet when you wouldn’t wake up.”

“That was before,” says Loki, shaking his head, looking away and fixing his eyes on the window. “What about now?”

Thor pauses, taking in the sight of his brother so angry and frustrated. He tries to silence his own anger. He _needs_ to silence it. Nothing will happen if he continues to think about himself, not when Loki needs someone, not when he’s weak and stuck to the bed with no one but himself to hold on to.

“I’m right here,” says Thor, and it’s true. It must be true. He hasn’t been there all the time but it shouldn’t matter at the moment. He’s here, Loki’s here, Thor’s going to make this work. “Can't you see?”

The look Loki gives him is weak and telling. Thor holds his own frustration back, wills himself not to fall apart when Loki blinks at him and whispers all but in a broken tone, “I’m tired, Thor.”

The double-meaning of those words hits him like a tidal wave.

Loki burrows into the sheets, signaling the end of their conversation. Thor breathes, tries to keep breathing, and wishes he would not feel so useless as he watches Loki sleep.

****…** **

Loki hides in the sheets until he hears the soft footsteps of Thor leaving the room.

He was so close. So close to breaking apart in front of his older brother and telling him everything he’s been hiding. So close to confessing about having reoccurring episodes that haunt him even in his sleepless nights.

He was so close. So close to reaching out to Thor so he could run and hide in his arms.

Loki's chest throbs, loud and hard. Like notes of a bass under his shoes when he’s in a party, channeling energy into the soles of his feet until every bone in his body is buzzing from the adrenaline. Though this time, it’s an unpleasant feeling, one that plasters him to the bed, one that forces him to remain unspeaking, for every breath he heaves out takes up so much of his already draining energy.

He’s so tired, and for the first time in so many years, he begins to feel helpless.

For the first time in so many years, Loki ponders over a question he hasn’t bothered answering since he was but a child: what would Thor have done if he knew the truth?

Someone knocks on the door after a while. Loki looks up from the bed to find Dr. Heimdall easing his way into the room.

“Pleasant morning, Loki.”

“Doctor,” Loki frowns, sitting up. “It's too early of an hour for you to visit.”

He’s wary about the man, always has been. Loki is not keen on knowing much more about his physician, but one thing he’s pretty much certain about this man is that his doctor could be blunt as hell, and Loki has always been fairly amused with people who don’t bother hiding around the bush during their own private exchanges.

So he’s not exactly surprised when Dr. Heimdall invites himself into Loki’s personal space and says, “We’ve identified defects in your scans.”

He’s been preparing himself to hear this. If his previous episodes were anything but growing symptoms of his condition worsening, then Loki doesn’t know what is.

He clears his throat. “Which one?”

“Both of them, Cardiac MRI and CT scans. Your blood vessels are tightening, and the development of the swelling in your heart hasn’t decreased since. Tell me, Loki. Do you understand what any of this means?”

Loki looks away, swallowing the lump in his throat. He knows damn well what it means but surely none of these can be true, none of these must be—

“Loki?”

He clicks his tongue, meeting his doctor's eye. “I understand enough.”

Dr. Heimdall seems displeased with his response. “Surely you understand my purpose of speaking to you privately about your scan results. These defects must not be ignored, Loki. I need to know whether you understand what these symptoms may lead to.”

“Talk to me then,” Loki says, fiddling with the sheets between his thumb and forefinger. Dr. Heimdall regards him with a raised eyebrow before speaking.

“Do you experience any shortness of breath?”

“Most of the time.”

“To what extent?” The doctor presses. “Chronic conditions would require the aid of oxygen.”

“That would be unnecessary,” Loki snaps. “It’s happened before, it happens all the time. Consider me short on breath twenty-four seven.”

Dr. Heimdall doesn’t appear moved. “Have you had any experience wherein you truly struggled to breathe?”

“Nothing that I haven’t mentioned.”

“Lying will get you nowhere,” Dr. Heimdall points out, completely unfazed. It makes Loki’s blood boil. “I never took you for stubborn. You always appeared rather smart to me.”

Loki snarls, “Get to your point.”

“Certainly,” the doctor smirks. “Are you having palpitations?”

Loki hears glass shatter, the ticking of the clock becomes a roaring siren in his ears and he counts off his breaths inside his head: _one, two, three, three, three—_

He could all but whisper now, even failing to hide the slight tremor to his voice. “Why?”

Just fucking count, Odinson. _One, two, three, three, four_ —

Loki could only watch warily as Dr. Heimdall shifts on his seat to reveal a clipboard behind him. “You don’t like making things easier, do you?” he asks, staring at Loki accusingly. “I’ve gotten in contact with your previous physician. I must say, she’s had an incredibly difficult time dealing with your tantrums.”

He’s overcome with the urge to leave the room at once. “What do you want?” Loki snarls.

“I want you tell me why you didn’t say anything to your nurse.” Dr. Heimdall sets him with a serious look. “You get palpitations, you say something. I still fail to understand why you chose to ignore these symptoms, Loki. You would know that hiding them could only worsen your condition.”

“They’re only palpitations, doc. Unusual sensations inside the chest. They’re not _painful _.__ ”

“I’d believe you.” The doctor’s eyes glint underneath the florescent lights. “You put up a good show, indeed, but I have sent some nurses into your room for immediate inspection while you were asleep. It would seem that we’ve noticed some changes regarding your oxygen tank."

_Don’t make me say it._

Loki pretends he doesn’t hear the suspicion lacing his doctor’s tone. “What about the tank?” 

But then—

”It’s empty, Loki. You've been using oxygen for a reason we had not been aware of.”

Like a bullet through his now demolished walls, the truth is now out in the open, screaming at his own panic-stricken expression, kicking him at the back of his knees so he could fall over and just fucking admit it. 

There’s no denying now. Not when it’s a _doctor_  Loki is speaking to, of all people.

“You’re not having palpitations,” Dr. Heimdall tells him, surprisingly in a kindly voice. His eyes fall over Loki with all the suspicion gone from his face and replaced by what seems to be empathy. The doctor doesn’t say in immediately, but when he does, Loki wishes he doesn’t have to hear the words again. “What you’ve been experiencing were silent heart attacks.”

Breathe, Odinson.

He shuts his eyes. _One, two, three._ Remember what you’ve researched before, skim through the pages of those medical blogs that followed you into your sleep. Remember the words, remember what they meant.

_Silent heart attacks: indigestion, heartburn, shortness of breath, aching sensation in the chest or arms that may spread to the neck, jaw or back—_

He opens his eyes. His head spins.

“You can’t tell my parents,” Loki all but pleads, face full of seriousness now. Under the sheets, his hands begin to tremble.

“That would be unwise for a patient’s decision. We all account for your stability in this hospital. And your parents cannot be left out in this knowledge.”

“It doesn’t fucking matter,” Loki snaps, completely beyond civility now. His eyes see red, they can’t focus enough to help him calm down. “You can’t tell my parents. Tell my brother for all I care, but not before I tell him myself. Just not my parents,” he whispers, practically begging. If Dr. Heimdall judges him for it, he doesn’t care. “Not yet.”

Dr. Heimdall leaves him weeping.

****…** **

Thor’s mood follows him like an estranged cat leeching to the back of his leg. A scowl ends up being permanently plastered to his face for the whole day, attracting more than enough attention necessary when Volstagg runs into him near the lecture halls and comments, “It’s one of those days, isn’t?”

Thor could do nothing but utter “fuck off” before leaving.

He completely forgets all about his hang-over in a quick second, thoughts replaced by repeated conversations with his brother along with the regret of having screamed in the hospital room when Loki was just being cranky like he always is.

Thor runs a palm over his face and groans. He could fucking drive and go over speed limit for days and days if it means he doesn’t have to deal with what he’s dealing with for at least a few hours. These annoying thoughts are making him see the bad side of things where it’s nonexistent, and it pisses him off because his mood is growing impossibly contagious that he’s had two or three other guys throwing snarky comments at his face.

It takes control over Thor’s head for a long time that he doesn’t even bother protesting against being called to the faculty office to meet Loki’s Physics professor.

“I heard the news about him, I feel bad, but he still has deadlines.” The woman offers nothing but a pathetic excuse of a smile before shoving a stack of books into Thor's arms. “Your brother’s exam is in a week. Tell him he’ll receive an email from me about his registration for online classes.”

“I’m not his slave,” Thor grumbles under his breath, which apparently the woman hears and to which she responds with a warning glare. Then again, Thor is really fucking himself up today. “Sorry.”

So when he drives to the hospital that afternoon, he enters Loki’s room with a half-restrained scowl and drops the books on the couch. “Your precious textbooks.”

He’s about to leave in the same second when Loki rises from the bed and regards him with a raised hand. “Wait!”

Thor grits his teeth. “What.”

“I need—” Loki fumbles around the sheets to hold out a History book. “I need you to return these to Sif for me. She left this when she visited, but she’s too deep into deadlines that she doesn’t have time to get it herself," rushing out in the last second, "and she really needs it tonight.”

Thor stares at the book, visibly unimpressed. “You’re serious?”

But Loki only blinks at him. “Yes.”

These favors… they’ll get into Thor's head in no time. It’s not like he has any other choice, does he?

So Thor takes the bait. “Fine,” he grumbles, stealing the book away and leaving the room with a deeper frown.

 ****…**** ****

It rains that afternoon, fat droplets of water pelting against the window Thor has spent the past few seconds looking at. Their dog would be refined to the cage, and Frigga says he can’t go outside to play in the backyard because he’ll get sick. So he takes the stairs and barges into Loki’s room.

“Brother!” he cries, jumping into the bed and joining Loki’s figure underneath the blankets. “Come and play with me, mom says I can’t go outside because it’s raining.”

His younger brother could be very stubborn, so Thor pleads with a pout which Loki removes by chucking a pillow into his face. “Get off, Thor, you’re crushing my legs!”

A foot jabs into his hip, “Ow!” and Thor is pushed from the edge of the bed and sent rolling on the floor laughing. “I just want to play, Loki.” 

He springs back onto his hands and knees, crawling his way to the edge of Loki’s bed. Loki watches him with a growing smile, eyes so small yet hopeful, and Thor wishes his brother would agree to play with him too. They’ve always been together, playing side by side until the world around them faded into nothing. Loki _must_  agree with him.

At last, his brother says, “Okay,” then proceeds to grin at him. “Bring your toys here.”

Loki has only been home from the hospital for five days, so Thor can’t help but buzz in excitement as he runs into his own room, rustling through his toy box to look for his most treasured toys yet. A breeze brushes against his cheek and the hair on his skin is sent dancing. He really can’t wait to play with his brother. 

When he returns to Loki’s room, he has two plastic swords in his hands, a crown worn proudly above his head and crimson silken blankets tucked into the back of his shirt for a cape. Loki frowns at him. Thor doesn’t know why, but he doesn’t like the sight of it.

Loki burrows into the lump of pillows. “I don’t like pretend fights, Thor.”

“But you can be the royal prince,” Thor tries, a frown crawling on his face. “I'l be the knight that saves you from the angry storms. You can stand on the bed while I stay on the floor to save you!”

Thor gets giddy all of the sudden at the very idea. As ridiculous as it sounds, a pretend fight would be perfect. He can pretend to battle against the raging thunderstorms, the darkest clouds, the strongest waves all the while he becomes a great force in the sea, and Loki would be shining with pride, waiting for him on the highest mountain and—

“Thor,” Loki whispers, almost sounding afraid. Thor looks up to see his brother’s eyes shining with tears. “There's no use, you will not win the fight. The storm has already captured me.”

Thor stands frozen on the ground, his stomach sinking. He forgets about the pretend fight, forgets about his toys, and crawls into the bed to crush his brother with his arms.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, smelling the strawberry in Loki’s shampoo. Loki sniffles softly into his neck. “Even if the storm has already captured you, I will always stay by your side.”

The rain doesn’t stop for a very long time, and so for a very long time, Thor holds his brother close until Loki finally tells him to let go.

“I know you hate reading,” he tells Thor, the mischievous grin returning to his face but only smaller. “But dad brought home new books from the store yesterday. I want you to read to me.”

Thor moves away, feeling shy despite his playful act to always appear brave. “You probably won’t enjoy the story if I’m the one telling it.”

Loki erupts into a bubbly laughter, soft but so very bashful, and Thor relishes in it, finds himself wanting to hear that sound over and over again.

“The story won’t matter now.” Loki grins at him, looking all the more amused. Then his voice recedes into a whisper. “I just want to listen to you.”

So Thor agrees despite himself and reaches for the books Loki stashed under his bed. He reads out every word with enough caution, expecting Loki to laugh if he somehow pronounces one of the words incorrectly, but the laugh never comes. Instead, heis younger brother lies there on the bed, looking up at Thor who remains propped up against the headboard, flipping through the pages until he, too, has deeply-engrossed himself in Loki’s storybooks.

He’s far too deep into the tales of gigantic serpents that he startles from the soft snoring below. Thor looks away from the pages and finds his brother asleep on the bed, arms curled around himself underneath the sheets. Loki’s probably just very tired; he’s been walking far too slowly these days.

Thor grins at his small victory and clasps the book shut. The rain keeps pouring, filling the house with an eerie chill, but Thor does not ever feel the cold. Instead, he remains comfortably warm nestled against the tussled sheets.

The rain doesn’t stop for a couple more days, so Thor reads to Loki every afternoon, always ending the short hour with his younger snoring blissfully into the pillows, and Thor himself growing rather proud that he can spend time with his brother without actually playing but still have this much fun.

Until it just stops raining one day, and Thor stops coming into Loki’s rooms to read.

****…** **

Thor accidentally drops the glass in his hand.

The memory comes bright and clear like a blinding light, reaching into the corners inside his head where he’s hidden away so many recollections from his youth. So Thor watches the mug shatter to the ground, holding his breath as the glass shards rain over the floor and scatter to form a crystallized puzzle piece; broken, unsolved, unpredictable.

He’s in Odin’s study, lingering in its corners like a lost fly as he searches through the relics his father has treasured over the years. The stein mug he’s just so unfortunately dropped goes as far as ten years back to when Odin first flew to Europe and came back with a set of antiques from Norway. He doesn’t think his father would pay any mind to the broken relic. It’s not like the man has been paying any attention to anything outside his business as of late.

Thor is only searching into Odin’s collection of fine alcohol when he stumbles into a small desk, his attention briefly pulled away by the photograph held by a frame and placed atop the desk's surface.

It’s a photo of their family, taken during Thor’s fourteenth birthday. Loki had only been eleven by then, and stuck into his nose was a pair of silicon tubes that were attached to his oxygen tank that’s effectively hidden from the frame. His eyes are brighter on the photo, arms fuller with flesh and hair barely curling behind his ears. Younger Thor has an arm wrapped around Loki’s shoulders, but Loki looks far too distant, his smile obviously strained, yielding.

Thor blinks at the photograph, lifting the frame and running a thumb over the glass. Odin looks younger, lively for his age but he, too, is far too distant from his children, leaning into Frigga’s embrace that he has left a noticeable space between him and Loki, who is then held by Thor. Like they’ve left room for another person, but Thor knows no one else who could possibly be included in the photograph.

“You can’t be here.”

Thor startles, nearly dropping the frame. His gaze snaps to the source of the sound. Odin looks more exhausted than angry, leaning his weight against the door frame while he casts a suspicious eye over his son.

“It looks like you’re troubled, my boy.” He walks into the room, taking up the chair behind his desk and dropping his bags to the floor. “Whatever it is, I suppose it requires you to rummage through my belongings.”

Thor clenches in his jaw, returning the frame to its previous position while turning away from his father. “You didn’t visit, did you?”

“I would, but I have business to tend to.”

Thor forces a chuckle, “Really?” He slowly turns to face his father. “Even mom took a week off. A _week_ , dad.”

“Yes,” Odin says, growing pointedly displeased. “And I spoke with the director in that hospital to grant her that privilege.”

As Thor strides to the desk, the silence around them grows tense. His gaze returns to the photograph. “Why were you never close?” he wonders, his voice receding into a whisper as Odin’s one eye locks with his. “You and I got along normally, but it was never like that with Loki. You always seemed to care so little for him. Eventually, I assumed you were just somehow trying to make point.”

“He reminds me of memories, boy.”

“What memories?”

“Memories you will not like,” sighs Odin, turning away. “Of _me _,__  failing as a father.”

Thor follows his gaze, confusion swarming his head. “You never failed me before.”

“Failing my sickly child,” Odin corrects, to which Thor scoffs.

“Bit ironic, don’t you think?”

Though Odin all but shakes his head. “Change isn’t easily accomplished, my boy. Still, I fail even now.”

Is this supposed to be a confession? Some sort of his father’s long overdue acknowledgement for his own mistakes? Thor doesn’t know and he’s not yet willing to bet on that possibility.

“He needs his family, dad. You being away on business trips obviously isn’t helping, and I wish that weren’t the case.” Thor makes his way to the door though pausing by the frame to cast one last long glance at his father. “You could try to care for once.”

He doesn’t catch the way Odin glances at the very same photograph.

  ** **…****

He’s already terribly passed out against the sheets in his dorm room by the time his phone rings. Thor stirs on the bed, groaning softly lest he accidentally awakens Volstagg before reaching for his phone and pressing it against his ear. “Hello?”

“Thor?”

He sits up, more awake now. It’s Loki on the other end, speaking with a voice far too soft even for a phone call. Thor sneaks a brief glimpse at the clock and finds that it’s shortly past one in the morning.

“You okay, Lo?” he asks.

“Can’t sleep.” There’s rustling heard from the other line. “Did I wake you?”

“No, I just—” Thor notices movement behind him. It’s Volstagg, clearly awake as well, and Thor mouths a quick apology to his roommate before clearing his throat. “I was just heading to bed.”

“You’re shit at making excuses, Thor.”

Despite his head screaming at him to sleep, he only slips his eyes shut and manages a breathy laugh. Even in the dark, Thor could perfectly envision his brother’s unimpressed face. He forgets about their little outburst earlier in the hospital.

Loki used to pull that face often when Thor threw jokes in the air like prized possessions, highly unaware of their ineffectiveness to his younger brother who was clearly better with words. Thor would only act offended, slapping a hand to his chest as if he’s been wounded by Loki’s displeasing criticism when Thor was all but delighted at Loki’s earnest reactions.

They were both still so young when those exchanges existed. When those precious seconds they spent going through a round of banter transpired everywhere they went, be it their rooms, the playground, or in their separated classrooms at their school.

Then it hits him.

They haven’t been like this in a long time. _This _,__ where Loki’s voice sounds as if he’s searching, reaching out, and Thor is the one holding out his own hand, his own acceptance, his own __response__  to whatever it is that Loki seeks.

Loki hasn’t sounded so earnest, so vulnerable, so lost in years. And if this is Thor’s chance to lend a hand and console his brother, there’s no reason to let the opportunity go to waste.

So he _tries._

“I take that mom visited you yesterday?”

“She did,” Loki says. “Grew paranoid over the toiletries the second she entered the room.”

“But you’re happy to see her?”

“Of course, I am, doofus. Because she’s not you. You’re too loud and you smell. How your drunken ass managed to evade Sigyn’s impressively sharp senses this morning is beyond me.”

Thor laughs, remembering the snarky attitude of that nurse. _Exactly like Loki _.__ “Where’s mom now?”

“Sleeping.”

“Snoring?”

He hears his brother chuckle. “Oh, you bet.”

“Well, she deserves it.” Thor stifles a yawn, not wanting to sound tired. “Did she sleep there last night?”

“No. Had to stay in the house because dad was away.”

“Oh.” He doesn’t push. “Anyway, Sif got the books you sent.”

“Did she throw you to another wall?”

Thor chuckles at that. “Not really. She looked too exhausted to even bother.”

“Well, she’s a busy woman. Digs for information like a dog, strikes asshole professors who look down on her credit. She doesn’t exactly take failure lightly.”

“I can see that. Is that why you befriended her?”

“What?”

Thor shrugs despite knowing Loki can't see him. “I don’t know. She seems strong-willed, smart, and she carries a sharp personality. Like that nurse you told me about, though I’ve only met her twice. They’re both like you in some weird way.”

“Are you supposed to be complimenting me?”

Laughs. “You wish.” Thor grins in the dark. “I just like to think that you and Sif get a long so well because you’re both so reserved. And I mean that in a good way, I do.”

“Not really,” Loki admits. “She’s always been like that on the outside. Her being a boxer is only a bonus, though. She fights like a man, always have. I’d sell my kidneys just to watch her kick your ass.”

“I’d be on my grave before the suggestion even rises.”

“Still, it was worth the try.” Even Loki yawns into the line. “Anyway, Sif isn’t quick to judge. I don’t care if she’s bringing down those guys in her class by beating them during political debates. I care that she knows about what’s happened to me, and I care that she understands.”

“She freaked out, you know. The overdose. When you didn’t text her.”

“I know.” There’s a pause. “And she beat your ass for it.”

Thor laughs. “Indeed.”

It’s almost natural laughing again, being this comfortable. Falling into their old familiar routine shared by the children they once were as if the world around them now isn’t falling apart. But then—

“Loki?”

“Yeah?”

Deep breaths. “I meant what I said earlier, you know,” he pauses. “I just want to help you.”

For awhile, he doesn’t think Loki is going to answer him until—

“I know.”

“Yeah?” Thor asks, hopeful. “It’s just. You said some things earlier about… _before_ , and I just went away for a while and decided to think about—”

“Thor,” Loki cuts in. “Stop, this is getting ridiculous.”

“What?”

“I know what you’re saying. Just… stop. Not tonight.”

“Okay,” Thor hesitates. He sighs, deciding not to push. “Are you alright?”

“Getting tired.”

Thor rolls over, dropping the phone on the mattress, putting it on loud-speaker. It’s okay, Thor’s only whispering now. Volstagg’s not going to hear him.

“Go to sleep, Lo.”

And Loki does, guessing by the sound of soft snoring that floats from the phone’s speakers a while later. Loki must have dozed off by then without ending the call.

But Thor doesn’t end it either. Instead, he lies awake, drawing the sheets over himself, wishing for a better tomorrow as he listens to his brother’s snoring from the other line.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!! Feedback is always appreciated! Here's my [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/shattered-loki) if you would like to reach out!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor witnesses things and Loki panics. Odin is apparently... hiding something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting closer to the good stuff, I promise! Just hold on. If you guys haven't checked out my tumblr posts as of late, I'll just repeat my words here: this will have a happy ending, I assure you. I love these characters too much to just mess with them like that.
> 
> Also, there will be no death of any sort, I promise!
> 
> Thank you for all of your support! Love you guys 3000 :)
> 
> (content warning: depictions of hyperventilation) 
> 
> Enjoy!

 

He didn't really mean to speak with Thor last night. Technically, when you’re outright pissed with your brother, you’re also supposed to stay true to your pride and refuse to talk to them.

But last night… last night Loki's thoughts betrayed him. He had kept on repeating the words Dr. Heimdall had spoken: _You’re not having palpitations,_  and fuck it if he thought he understood enough. Loki had understood _nothing_  from the very beginning because when he was younger, he was made to believe in the possibility that maybe, just maybe… these episodes would never have to come back.

But fate has a funny way of coming around. Loki has not only been experiencing palpitations of some sort… he’s been having fucking _heart attacks._

And he never knew, never let the possibility enter his head because as far as he knows, he’s always been healthy. Immensely recovering. Showing no signs of any complications or defects that may just be resurfacing.

Now, he fails to comprehend what these could all mean for him. He’s not… well-prepared to face the many difficult possibilities laid out in his path.

And so he called Thor last night, closed his eyes while he listened to his brother's voice, imagining he was still the young child who listened to Thor read stories in his bedroom while the rain came pouring through the days like an endless hurricane.

Loki sleeps though the next morning after exhausting his own mind yesterday from restless thoughts and equally tiring conversations with his brother and Dr. Heimdall who, by all means, has surprisingly agreed to keep the truth at bay at Loki’s rather insistent request. And Loki’s thankful for that, at least. Despite the reserved nature of his physician, Loki takes comfort in the knowledge that he could trust the man in some way.

Frigga stirs him from his sleep just before the remnants of his dream begin to fade. She tells him about the matters she needs to tend to back at home. And to quote her—she'll be gone for a few hours. Fruits are in the mini fridge if he ever grows hungry. All of his toiletries are now restored and arranged neatly in the bathroom.

Always such a good mom. Loki would squeeze her hand in gratitude if the muscles in his back aren’t aching.

A small part of him is very much relieved to know that he would have a couple of hours to himself. He doesn’t get any time alone these days, not with Frigga around and fussing about his belongings. And not having any time alone is basically a huge setback for the secrecy he so desperately needs to work out. He’s not exactly lucky enough to know when the next attack is going to happen.

And he’s never felt safe with the weight of that truth. The next attack could happen _anytime _.__  It could happen with so many people watching. It could happen God knows how many more times and Loki is definitely not stupid to think that he could hide this forever. He’s only been lucky enough that he went through the recent attacks alone.

“I told your brother to come over.” Frigga brushes his hair from his forehead, kissing his temple afterwards. “He doesn’t have any training this afternoon.”

Thor does arrive later when Loki is currently five chapters deep into his reviewer sheets for Calculus finals. Thor is loud about it, too, barging into the room without so much as a knock and throwing an overly-enthusiastic grin towards his younger brother.

Loki barely glances at him. Thor really seems to be in a mood. He takes the couch and gets comfortable. “Mom sent me here.”

“She obviously did.” Loki rolls his eyes. "Thor, you didn't close the door."

“Are you studying? Stop studying, Lo. It’s all you ever do now. Why don’t we visit the garden?”

Loki slams his book shut and groans, growing much more annoyed. “I swear to _god_ , Thor, if you don’t—”

“Hey, smartass.”

Loki whirls around, startled from another voice.

“Sif,” he breathes. Sif appears in the doorway, graceful in stealth as she’s always been, wearing a knowing smile that has never failed to endear Loki even when he’s in his foulest of moods. She enters the room and rushes to his side, closing the door behind her. “You didn’t have to visit.”

“Oh well, finals are driving me crazy. I needed someone to share my hysterics with.”

Loki laughs despite himself, and for a brief second he catches the smirk Thor sends him from the couch. Loki raises an eyebrow in question. “You drove her here?”

The grin Thor musters speaks of his own amusement. “Not before she ran after my car down the street.”

Turns out Sif has brought her own books to assist Loki with his other deadlines. They share the same Linguistics class, and so Sif pulls out the reviewers as well as her textbooks to walk Loki through the chapters they recently covered in the last week. She drags a chair next to his bed so they could work in a single space.

And Loki watches her, completely entranced. Listening to her words and catching up as much as he can while also focusing on the fact that he hasn’t had this experience since Sif last visited. Since then, he’s been too engrossed in his own studies and deadlines that he has forgotten what it feels like to have his study partner back.

For a second, it's almost as if he’s back in the library, tugging at the sleeves of his sweater down to his knuckles instead of drawing his legs up underneath his hospital gown. For a second, he’s mastering the formulas in his head as his eyes skim the page, drowning in the silence that fills the entire library while he and Sif go through the chapters as they sit face to face.

“Loki,” Sif pulls at his arm. “You’re drifting.”

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly, returning to the papers in his hands.

They go through several more paragraphs before proceeding to the next chapter. Loki appreciates Sif’s efforts really, but in the short second he begins to grow exhausted, his eyes break away from the sight of those thick pages to search for Thor and finding his brother doing god knows what in the bathroom.

With the door slightly ajar, it’s not difficult to notice what Thor is using his hands for. His back is slumped as he leans into the sink, arms moving in sharp sweeps as he—wait. Is that… ?

“Thor,” Loki hisses.

“Yeah?”

Loki checks upon Sif’s unfazed expression as she continues to read through the chapters. He musters up the best glare and sends it directly to Thor’s back. “Please do humor me. Why on earth are you washing my clothes?”

“Oh.” Thor pauses. “You’re running out of clean ones.”

“But _why_?”

“Who’s going to wash them then? I’m not going to make mom do all the work for you.”

Loki pinches the bridge of his nose. “But those are my boxers!”

Sif sniggers from where she’s presently hiding her face behind a book. Loki ignores her and scoffs when his brother doesn’t so much as respond. “ _Thor_!”

Thor all but chuckles, neither stopping nor dropping the soaked clothing in his hands. “How do you even shower with all those tubes in your arm? Must be a bitch to get used to.”

“Like you’d know.” Loki rolls his eyes, leaving his brother alone with his business. At least he’s got someone doing the washing for him now. Clothes apparently aren’t going to be a problem for him for the next few days.

“Loki,” Sif touches his arm gently. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Of course,” he nods. Of course he is. “I can handle three more chapters.” 

Like a saint, Sif continues reading to him. And like a fucking stubborn feline whose curiosity cannot be sated, Loki continues to watch his brother from a distance. He doesn’t understand why he’s even watching, why he’s so bothered at the sight of Thor doing these tasks in his place simply because Loki is _unable_  to do so, which shouldn’t be a problem really. He should be grateful even, but Sif’s words eventually fall into deaf ears and Thor’s humming begins to get on his nerves that Loki silently begins to wish that Thor would just fucking _stop._  

_Stop making me seem weak._

There’s a siren wailing, quite too loudly in his ears that he shuts his eyes and winces before forcing them open to study his surroundings. But what about Sif? She’s continuously flipping through the pages like the noise doesn’t bother her at all. Perhaps she cannot hear them. Is it only Loki who hears the siren then? 

_What…? What is this—_

Something punches low into his stomach. A sharp stab to his breast that keeps digging in, aiming endlessly for a spot he cannot put a finger on, cannot locate, cannot fucking understand how the spot even begins to itch in the first place as his chest remains aching from these repetitive sharp jabs.

He clamps his eyes shut and looks away. _No, please no _.__  It hits him, it hits him at the back of his head until he thinks he’s doubling over and clawing desperately at his chest. _Not now, please _.__  His own body betrays him. Slowly, just slowly, his breathing quickens. He’s panting now, louder than what should be normal, and Sif jerks her head upward with all the horror in her eyes.

“Loki?”

But what can he do but look away? The books fall from the floor. He doesn’t care, he doesn’t _care—_

“Thor! Please, it’s Loki!”

Shut your fucking eyes, Odinson. Do not visualize the way your brother rushes out from the bathroom and tugs at your arm. Ignore him. Ignore him.

“Look at me, Loki. Stay calm, come on.”

The air is punched straight out from his lungs. He could feel the flutters now, easing their first wave as if they’re only caressing the walls of his heart. The flutters grow more rapid, more serious with their intent. Loki jerks away when another arm reaches for him and clasps his eyes so tight he could start bleeding.

“Fuck, Loki—can you hear me?”

“He can’t breathe properly, Thor! Help me get the tank!” 

 _Stupid _.__  Loki chokes out a breath as his arms automatically wrap around his neck. His eyes snap open, welling up with tears he so desperately blinks back. _Stupid _,__  he thinks again, watching Thor scramble at the oxygen tank beside the bed without knowing that it’s empty. _Stupid._

The tubes are roughly inserted into his nostrils. Loki knows it’s Thor. He’s always been aggressive with him.

“It’s not fucking working!”

“There’s nothing coming out of the tubes!”

He’s closing up the first wave of the flutters. His chest is mostly throbbing with the forceful jolts but inside he’s terribly burning. He’s _burning _.__ Like the source of pain has just split itself into branches that have now reached into the muscles of his back, his jaw, and his limbs.

“Breathe for me, Loki… Brother, _p_ _lease_.”

Loki thrashes Thor away. “Stop _coddling_ me!”

A pair of hands cradles his head and Loki shuts his eyes again because it’s Thor holding him, anchoring him down to the reality when there is no reality for Loki, only pain. Only searing burns. Tortures he cannot control nor hope to relieve. The comfort of Thor’s hands alone will not heal him, not when he literally cannot fucking _breathe_ —

Don’t let your brother see you like this, Odinson.

“Out of the way!”

Another voice cuts through, and Loki jolts on the bed. He’s in so much pain. So much… _fuck _.__  Please. Make this stop.

"What the fuck is happening?"

Sigyn grabs Loki's shoulders, turning to Thor. “I said _out _!”__

"No, I need to say! I have to—Loki!"

The hands detach from the sides of his head. Loki finds himself falling forward to search for their warmth. They’re gone. His vision blurs. He could make out the gravel in Thor’s voice when he screams, but Sigyn is far too loud. In an instant, a different pair of tubes replaces the ones inserted into Loki’s nostrils and the pointed end of a syringe that's injected into his arm renders him unconscious.

Even in his sleep, the pain in his chest does not subside.

****…** **

“Is he on oxygen?” Thor asks, noting the large tube across Loki’s nose. He and Sigyn have been on watch for the past hour. Loki is left unconscious on the bed as an effect of the anesthesia Sigyn used on him.

“Just until he awakens.” Sigyn remains motionless next to him. “His new medication needs enough supply of oxygen. The drugs won’t prove effective if he’s struggling to breathe.”

“You changed his medication again?”

“It was necessary,” Sigyn assures. “Disopyramide. It’s supposed to treat irregular heartbeat patterns.”

Thor sighs, rounding the bed and taking the chair to Loki’s right. His brother’s face is paler, cheeks thinner than before. Thor looks away and catches Sigyn’s eyes. “Why is he like this?”

“He likes keeping secrets. You should know that by now, you’re his brother.”

She’s right. Thor returns his gaze to his brother and takes Loki’s hand in his. “I never knew he hid this much.”

He squeezes Loki’s palm, watches as the skin there turns pink. He hasn’t held Loki like this in a long time. If Loki were awake, he’d threaten to chop Thor’s fingers off if he sees him now.

Sigyn sits the foot of the bed. Thor could feel her eyes burning at the back of his skull but all he does is ignore her. Loki looks pale, far  _too_ pale.

“You know,” he hears her say. “Heart attacks happen a lot and they happen to a lot of people, but you’re very much lucky if you survive one.”

Thor forces a bitter chuckle. “That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“It’s not supposed to.” She rises from her seat. “The truth needs to come out either way. It’s very important that you understand what this means for your brother.”

Thor shuts his eyes at those words. Heart attacks. He’s heard Loki talk about heart attacks when he explained what his symptoms were, but Thor has never considered the idea of Loki actually _having_  them. The thought alone had been too much to bear that time. Now that it’s happened, it still seems too absurd for him to believe. He's also been stubborn in some way.

A hand grips his shoulder. “You gotta make him eat, Thor,” Sigyn pleads. Her voice carries the weight of her authority, and Thor finds himself wanting to do his best to follow her advice.

When it begins raining outside, Thor announces his need to leave. Sigyn is generous enough to take up the 6-hour watch as though to remain on protocol, and Thor sends his gratitude in return by nodding at her.

Sif is still waiting in the lobby by the time Thor reaches the ground floor. _I’ll leave you alone with him _,__  she had told him earlier when Sigyn bolted out of the room and returned to the nurses’ station to tend to other patients. Thor silently thanked his friend for the privacy. With Sigyn all around in the room and fussing about the oxygen levels being provided into Loki’s system, Thor’s barely had any time to process what just transpired.

They run towards the parking lot under the downpour of the rain. Thor kicks the car into life and drives with his head heavy with thoughts. Sif, on the other hand, curls into the passenger seat with her eyes out the window. He is oddly reminded of the day of the overdose.

“Sif.”

“Hmm?”

“You’ve grown quiet,” he points out. A vehicle overtakes and he slows down. “Do you want to talk?”

She turns to him. The look on her face is something Thor cannot read. “Do you?”

He sighs, uncertain over the answer himself. Does he even want to talk at all? He can’t possibly know what he could say to make the situation feel less… uneasy. They’ve seen what they’ve seen, and they both know that Loki has been hiding this for some time. The only elephant in the room they’ve failed to notice is the question _what else?_

What else is Loki hiding? What else could it possibly mean?

Thor understands that he cannot have a conversation about _this_  with Loki’s dearest friend. He doesn’t have answers, and he’s tired of asking the questions himself.

Sif seems to notice Thor’s reluctance, though, without saying anything else. She’s like Loki in so many ways, and yet so different from him all the same. Thor doesn’t know if he likes having that knowledge.

They no longer speak, deciding against it. It’s easier this way, when no words are exchanged and no feelings are exposed in front of others. _Hold it in,_  Thor tells himself. It’s how he's survived in the first place.

“Drop me here.” Sif points to the sidewalk when they’re three blocks close to the campus. “The gym’s just around the corner.”

Thor pulls over and watches her leave. Clouds are scattered all over the sky and effectively dampening his mood, and though the day is still early, it has already grown dark outside. Thor drives back to the campus and sets out to the field. There’s no one training seeing as everyone has set to the dorms, but Thor pushes forward with his journey.

The grass is wet with mud, and Thor ignores how it stains the soles of his shoes. He climbs up the bleachers, allows the rain to fall upon him, blinking at the empathetic storm before pulling his phone out and dialling.

****…** **

He catches Loki crying one night in the hospital. Their parents are talking with the doctor outside, and his younger brother is sleeping under the blankets, or at least Thor thinks he is. Until he hears some sniffling and he’s forced to yank the sheets from the bed.

Loki looks up with all the horror in his eyes, and Thor climbs up the bed with his small limbs to pull his brother into his arms. He's still so small, they both are, but Loki is crying, and Thor must protect him from what is causing him pain. So he does.

Loki whimpers against his shoulder. “I can’t breathe, Thor.”

But Thor holds him, makes his brother calm down. “I’ve got you.”

The next time he catches Loki crying, his brother refuses to let go of the pillow that muffles his sobs even as Thor pulls at them.

“Loki, why are you hiding?”

“Go away, Thor.”

“But you’re crying again!”

He pulls at the pillow with more force and it slides away from Loki’s hands. The same expression of horror is still seen in those green eyes that are shining with tears.

Thor hauls him up and pulls him into his arms. Loki curls into him as if in reflex and whispers three words into the cotton of Thor’s shirt.

Thor calms him down again. “I’ve got you.”

When he catches his brother crying again, they’re much older. Loki is now twelve while Thor himself has just become a sophomore in high school. They haven’t stayed in the hospital for more than five days in years, but when Loki is brought there again, he stays for one month.

Thor is old enough to get a grip around the common terms used around in the hospital. _Adrenaline blockers, extra supply of oxygen, IV therapy._ Though he hears them often, he doesn’t understand how they all connect to his brother who is again unfortunately stuck to the hospital bed.

He rides the bus to the hospital after school on a Friday, deciding to spend a few hours with his brother because he hasn’t seen him in a week thanks to the pressure of exams. Then again, Loki has more than once insisted that he doesn’t need any more company in the room. Frigga visits everyday, Odin drops by when he’s able, but Thor has started losing control over his schedule these days. The busier he gets, the less time he has for his family.

So when he gets to Loki’s room in the hospital, he expects a relieved smile from his brother, at least, or perhaps an exclamation of surprise because even Loki could get lonely on other days despite claiming that he doesn’t need any company. But when Thor opens the door to the room, Loki has both hands clawing at his chest, neck craned up as he _gasps_  loudly and _wails_  and—

“Loki?” 

Thor rushes to his side, and when Loki finally notices him, the expression on his face goes from pained to _furious._

“Get out of here!”

“Loki, what—can you breathe?”

“I said get _out!_ You can't see me like this!”

Thor begins to back away to scream for a nurse but Loki catches his wrist and tugs him forward, forward, and forward until—

“No, please,” he whispers, broken and struggling, and Thor just can’t find it inside himself to leave his brother in this state. “Just stay.”

So Thor grabs Loki’s shoulders and wishes his brother would calm down. “Stop hiding,” he whispers, listening to his brother cry. “I’ve got you.”

****…** **

Thunder claps across the sky and Loki jerks awake on the bed, fingers blindly reaching for the sheets in reflex. He’s alone in the room, left with no trace of recent visitors except for the door to the bathroom that’s left open. Thor must have forgotten to finish drying the clothes after witnessing the incident that transpired.

Loki shakes his head at the memory, flinching at the volume of Thor’s voice when he yelled in protest after Sigyn kicked him and Sif out of the room. It’s the last thing Loki remembers before dozing off from the anesthesia injected into his arm.

He closes his eyes, allowing the chill from the weather run across his skin even as he’s nestled under the sheets. He doesn’t think, doesn’t look back to the pressure of Thor’s hands around his neck when Loki refused to meet his eyes in shame. And it’s there. That’s the problem. Loki is ashamed, overwhelmed by the embarrassment that Thor had to see him like _that _—__ thrashing against their pathetic excuse to help and pretending that he’s fine when he could barely feel his rib-cage from the forceful throbbing.

It’s stupid. What the fuck do you do now, Odinson, when it’s all out there in the open. Loki curses himself and swings his feet over the bed, hoping he still has the strength to walk himself to the door.

The wheelchair is found challenging to control when he’s the only one pushing himself, but he forgets the short struggle when he cracks his door open and sees no sign of Sigyn at the nurses’ station.

Perhaps he could roll across the hall when they’re too busy enough to keep their eyes trained on the paperwork. He can’t risk being caught now. The walls to his room are beginning to suffocate him and Loki has been longing to breathe in fresh air for a whole day again.

“Code blue! I repeat, __code_ blue_!”

Someone yells from the end of the hallway. A flurry of nurses from the station run to the room where another nurse is dragging a trolley of equipment. A patient just had cardiac arrest, Loki has heard of a lot of cases enough to notice one. He steals the chance of a clear pathway and wheels himself into the elevator as fast as he could.

He lets out a sigh of relief when he manages to escape the nurses. Sigyn did make it very clear that he cannot go beyond the premises of his room, but after what happened in there, he just needs to find another place to breathe in.

The raining has stopped when he gets to the garden. How the security guards fail to notice him is only a blessing which he savors by going through his way and finding some shade under a row of trees.

It’s all easier by then, now that he’s alone. Easy to pretend that what happened in the room totally didn’t happen, that Thor never saw his shattering facade that revealed the existence of his very own vulnerability.

Right now, with his two hands trembling from the chill, it’s easy to pretend that he’s only cold. That he’s back to being the small silver child running about the house without any problems in the world, motivated by the joy from causing mischief and carrying such great knowledge even in that young brain he had.

He finds comfort in the echo of the storm, one that draws complete control over his head from the fading cracks of thunder it brings about. Loki allows the wind to brush across his forehead. The skin on his cheek is now a canvas of small pelts of the rain and he breathes. Freely. No longer through the help of a machine but through his own will and strength to breathe. He feels free.

Something vibrates in his pocket, forcing him to break out of his trance. Loki pulls his phone out and sees the name ‘Thor’ blaring across the screen.

He waits as the call goes into voicemail.

“Hey, Loki.” Thor’s voice is rough, like he's been screaming. There’s a low chuckle. “If you’re still asleep, I hope I don’t wake you. Sigyn told me you needed as much sleep as you can get. I can’t exactly argue over that.”

Loki’s eyes fall shut. Thor is speaking to him and he doesn’t sound angry, but Loki can’t help but hear something different in his brother’s tone.

“When you called the other night… I’m sorry I didn’t get the chance to pick up. And I _know_  that I should have but I just—” There’s a long sigh. “Lo, you gotta tell me stuff.”

There’s that tone again, a sad one. It laces Thor’s words as they hit Loki and he is left contemplating whether the meaning he finds between Thor’s words is actually _desperation._

The gravity of his brother's voice punches the air out of Loki’s lungs that his eyes begin to betray him. Even through the biting cold outside in the garden, the tear that trails down the ridge of his nose burns the skin of his cheek.

He curses himself once more and pictures how Thor’s face appeared so frightened when Loki thrashed him away.

His brother’s voice returns to speak.

“I’m losing my head here, alright? You need to tell me what’s going on so I can help you. I _have_ to help you, Loki.” Thor’s voice fades for a second. “Anyway, call me when you wake up… Good night, Lo.”

When the voicemail ends, he finally falls apart. It takes Loki everything not to lose his control and remain breaking apart in the garden, but when his vision blurs from the tears, he decides he just cannot tell the difference anymore.

That night when Loki had called Thor, he was alone and shaking under the sheets. Another attack had transpired, and he grew back into the small boy hiding from his brother's curious gaze, but it was on that night that Loki decided to stop and just admit everything before it was too late.

He failed. Thor didn't answer, and Loki suffered the attack alone once again.

 ****…****  

“You’re soaking,” is the first thing Volstagg says when he opens the door at Thor’s knock. He steps aside to let Thor in.

Thor’s clothes have sagged and stuck against his skin, his pants all crumpled to drip and leave spots of water trailing behind his step. He’s thankful enough that his friend doesn’t say anything else about his unusual state. It’s what he’s always liked about Volstagg. He doesn’t ask questions when he shouldn’t.

“You staying in, Thor? I’m locking up once I leave in thirty.”

Thor shakes his head. “I just need some spare clothes.”

A heavy silence falls over them. Thor pulls out a sweater from the closet and peels off the shirt sticking to his skin. His roommate remains unspeaking from the other side of the bed, and if Volstagg is still trying to come up with something inoffensive to say to dampen the tension, then it’s fine, Thor doesn’t care. It’s always like this, treading on thin ice with their words. Like a mutual understanding between them, or something of the sort. Volstagg has always been able to respect Thor’s silence, until he just couldn't anymore.

“You look like you need some sleep.”

And there he goes, speaking his mind up. Thor tries to dismiss the claim with a chuckle.

“My dad hasn’t stopped giving me shit for the fight with Bjorn.”

“Has he?” Volstagg only raises a brow. “What about finals? Have you been preparing?”

“Football?”

“Academics, Thor.”

Thor clenches his jaw. “I’ll be fine.”

That shouldn’t be any of Volstagg’s business. Thor hurls his shirt into the laundry basket and forcibly pulls the sweater over his head. His patience is wearing thin. He needs to get out of here.

But then there are footsteps approaching, and Volstagg is sitting in front of him to where Thor is still peeling off the rest of his clothes. Volstagg offers him a look which Thor has trouble reading.

“You know I’ve heard you last night… when you were on the phone," he says, and Thor stares at him apologetically but Volstagg beats him to it. “It’s fine, I don’t really mind, it’s just. I just want you to know that Fandral and I could always come with you if you’re going to visit your brother again.” He smiles sadly. “You know we would always have your back.”

Thor waits for those words to sink in. They don’t. He turns his back to his friend and forces a chuckle. “That really won’t be necessary, but thanks.”

“Come on, pal. You’re better than this.”

“Than what?” Thor snaps his head.

Honesty. Another trait he’s always liked about Volstagg. 

“You gotta let it out, Thor. It’s eating you alive.”

Thor turns away again, those words hanging heavily in the air. Volstagg is right. Everyone just seems to be right these days. It’s making his head spin. “I just need time to think, I guess.”

“What’s going on?”

Thor drops on the mattress right next to his friend and brings his hands to his face. “Something happened today, and I—” he sighs, pausing to catch his breath. “I don’t know, man.”

Christ, he must look pathetic in this state. Soaking from head to toe, his own body betraying him and spitting out all those emotions he’s spent so much time covering up. For what it's worth, Volstagg doesn’t point out any of the sort. He stays there right next to him, proving all at once that he still has Thor’s back.

“It’s okay.” He wraps a tight grip around Thor’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Thor.”

 ****…** ** ****

Thor drives to their house in the middle of the night. At this point, Frigga would probably already be in the hospital to stay the night, and so the house would be empty again unless Odin is still on one of his business trips that just never seem to end. His hands tighten around the wheel at the thought.

Though his head has grown worn out from all the thinking, he doesn’t miss the wrongness of the sight he's currently being met with. There’s another car in the driveway right next to Odin’s, the model too unfamiliar to be one of their relatives’ and the windows are tinted dark enough that he can’t make out the shape of the driver’s seat. Thor pulls into the driveway and quietly makes his way into the house.

Noises erupt from the study. Thor pauses halfway into the kitchen and blocks out any other noise to just _listen._  There’s a woman, voice dropping low enough that he dismisses the possibility of the person being a young one, and she’s speaking in the pauses between Odin’s words. Thor walks closer to the study to inspect, stopping only two feet away from the door.

The speaking doesn’t stop. He contemplates ringing Frigga just to check if she has any idea of what’s currently happening in the house but decides against it when he realizes how late it actually is. And then he stops, stares at the clock far too long. It’s nearly one in the morning. Odin has another person inside his study and Thor doesn’t know what to fucking do.

He doesn’t panic, tries not to. His father has never been that open to any of his family, but if there’s one thing Thor truly knows about his father, is that Odin has never been unfaithful. That’s the only reassurance he has right now.

So stays in the lounge, nestling against the backrest even as he grows even more tense every second. Perhaps he could catch the woman exit Odin’s room if he could only wait long enough to—

He falls asleep an hour later. He doesn’t catch the moment the woman emerges from Odin’s study, and he doesn’t catch the way she peers over his slumped figure against the couch and says to Odin, “So this is your first son?”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Odin's secrets are unveiled.
> 
> Loki falls apart, but Thor is there when he does. This time, Loki doesn’t push him away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's bring the brothers together, shall we? They suffered too much. 
> 
> Enjoy!

 

The house is empty when Thor stirs awake on the couch. He completely missed his chance last night, and he blames it on none other than himself. Who the fuck was that woman even? Thor clenches his eyes shut, tries to remember vague voices that slowly faded and… he stops short, snapping his eyes toward the double doors next to the kitchen.

Odin’s study isn’t locked.

It takes Thor no less than a minute to rummage through the papers on the desk. Useless, all of them. Thor searches for any unusual sign among those documents but all he finds are unsigned contracts from a number of Odin’s clients. Property sales, establishment entitlements, requests for additional rentals in the town his father had recently visited when—

The tips of his fingers hover a thin paper.

Transfer receipts. Rolls and rolls of cash transfer receipts. Thor fishes for the receipts under the contracts. Who the hell is sending Odin these cash anyway? Some of them come in envelopes of three, and Thor tears each one of them open. He draws a shaky breath and pulls out the first receipt he finds.

_Amount: $2,000.00 | Received by Odin Borson, Atlanta, Georgia_

It’s a large sum of money, at least for Thor. They’re not poor, and he knows that Odin’s job makes enough for them to have survived all these years, but why must his father need to borrow that much? Thor comes to the realization that he doesn’t how much Loki’s treatment costs exactly.

The next receipt is just behind the one he’s currently studying so Thor plucks that out too. But what the fuck?

_Amount: $4,500.00 | Received by Odin Borson, Atlanta, Georgia_

And it’s not the last one too. Thor snatches the rest of the envelopes and rips them open, pulling out the receipts that reveal sums of cash that just seem to go ridiculously higher and higher and higher—

He stops.

And stares. His fingers freeze on the page, because right there, on the top of one transfer receipt in particular is a printed name Thor thinks he’s already read before.

_…Received by Odin Borson, Atlanta, Georgia | Received from Hela Odinsdottir, Washington, DC_

Hela... Odinsdottir? Thor sucks in a breath. He forces his eyes away from the receipt and recollects all of the envelopes that have dropped to the floor. They’re all addressed and marked with the same pair of stamps, each and every one of them sent from Washington down to Georgia with his father’s name printed on the fucking bottom of those addresses for a reason he doesn't know.

_Odinsdottir._

His mind races and his body follows along, whirling him in a flash of thoughts and faded memories from his youth along with the gut-sickening proclamation of Odin’s love for them as his only children…

Had they all been lies? Spit out in front of his face where he could have actually sensed them instead of believing them like the fool he is?

Thor slumps on the seat behind the desk, releasing the envelopes that continue to pool on the floor. Those flashes follow him into his head and mess with his memory until they’re all but fragments of the broken puzzle that's supposed to have pieced every single second of his childhood.

 _I wish things were different, but he has other matters to attend to. Matters which even I cannot control._ Frigga’s voice finds its way into his head. _Hospital bills and such._

Matters his father has to attend to, matters which even Frigga cannot control. Thor shuts his eyes at his growing migraine. He wonders how much those words from his mother held a deeper truth. 

_We are struggling at the moment, but we will find a way._

Questions shoot into his head. Does Frigga even _know_  about this? How could they not tell him? 

_I wouldn’t want to worry you my dear._

Thor pulls his phone out, nearly giving into the temptation of calling Frigga but deciding against it on the very last second because he can't. Not yet. He's very nearly losing his head at the sudden revelation about this... person named  _Hela_ , and he doesn't even know if he's getting any of the facts straight. Who the fuck is this woman? Surely she can't be...

Then it just dawns on him, perhaps a second too late.

Odin’s study is basically a safe of strictly confidential documents. Every possible inch of the room holds secrets he can uncover if he could just find the strength in him to actually  _acknowledge_ said secrets. Thor will search for every single thing in the house that is linked to that woman they so call Hela... whoever she is.

He begins to dig for information, ignoring the way his heart hammers inside his chest.

 ****…** ** 

“Are you cold, my dear?”

Loki lifts his head from the pillow to stare at his mother. Frigga had slipped into the room at the wake of dawn, and Loki had woken up to see her radiating as she leaned against the window. He smiles softly at her, his heart still heavy from last night’s whirlwind of emotions.

“I am.”

Quietly, Frigga shuffles to the bed and slips into the sheets in front of him. They lie face to face in the silence of the hospital room. Loki draws in a sharp breath when Frigga reaches for his chest and takes his hand that’s planted across his heart.

“ _May it be when darkness falls, your heart will be true_ ,” she begins singing, “ _You walk a lonely road, how far you are from home _.__ ”

Her voice comes as a gentle caress to his cheeks, soothing the chill out from his skin as she hums around her words. Loki’s eyes droop at Frigga’s face, so young yet evidently weary from the troubles piling at her feet. He inches closer to her mother, his chest warming at the sight of her growing smile.

“ _Mornie utúlië, believe and you will find your way._ ” She smiles sadly. “ _Mornie alantië, a promise lives within you now _.__ ”

A memory strikes. Small and clumsy for a little boy himself, crawling into his mother’s arms at nightfall in the space of the hospital room, filling the silence with lullabies of old that follow him into his dreams. Flashes of a younger version of himself so youthful and recovering, yet here he is again, reshaped from years of recovery only to be… failing. _Declining_. Loki tightly shuts his eyes against the rest of the world. The tears burn when they come.

Frigga strokes his hair, gentle fingers warm against his temples.

“ _When the night is overcome, you may rise to find the sun _.__ ”

She hums the rest of the song until Loki is openly voicing his sorrows into her shoulder, drawing the sheets to both of their necks so that she, too, wouldn’t feel the biting cold.

“Oh, my bright boy,” she cries. “I am very sorry for everything.” Loki wraps an arm around her wrist, and Frigga caresses his cheek when she smiles. “I love you, my dear.”

They spend the rest of the morning holding each other close, shutting themselves out from the rest of the world as their sorrows lay heavy upon their chests. Frigga leaves his side when the clock strikes twelve, promising that she will return once she’s finished running to the store and getting food for the next couple of hours.

Loki drags himself to the bathroom for a shower. The IV tubes are carefully leveled as he peels off his shirt with the rest of his sweats, flinching as one of the tubes gets stuck around the hook of the IV stand when he slips his infused arm out from his shirt. The sudden pull doesn’t hurt, but the sight of himself struggling does, so he turns up the heater and sighs as the scalding heat burns his skin raw.

He hasn’t heard Frigga sing to him, not since he last stayed in the hospital for a month when he was still twelve. Those days feel like ages ago. 

So he lies there unarmed, bearing the heat from the water and watching as his skin flushes red. The searing pain causes his toes to curl, but Loki holds it in, he _holds_  it in. Anything would be better than cold showers. Anything would be better than freezing, angry waves.

His chest throbs at the memory. Another attack kicks in, forcing him onto his knees on the bathroom tiles.

****…** **

Thor refuses to believe the things he’s seeing. He falls blind to the words laid out before his bare eyes, and he’s reduced to denial even when things just somehow begin falling into place.

A crumpled replica of a birth certificate lies on the desk, mocking him from where he’s glaring down at the words. Despite growing sick from the ugly truth, Thor rereads the name printed out in bold text. 

_Hela Odinsdottir._

He takes the document and runs for his car, slamming the accelerator down from the height of his rage as he grows desperate to have a word with his brother. The possibility of Loki already having made aware of the revelation Thor has only disclosed recently is a thought that just seems too unlikely. If Loki even knew in the first place, surely he would speak to Thor. Thor knows his younger brother kept secrets like his life depended on them, but not even Loki is good enough of a liar to let the reason of Odin’s indifference towards him rot in the dark.

By all means, Loki would surely address his distaste for Odin’s indifference out loud if the chance ever comes. 

Thor just can’t get himself to drive any faster. His nerves are constantly buzzing as he switches from lane to lane, seeking out small passages between blocks for a chance at a shorter route towards his destination. Loki would _want_  to speak with him about this. Hell, Thor can’t even put a name to the ever-growing problem at hand. Should he address it as the 'revelation' of their so-called potential sister?

Fucking hell.

How could their parents not say anything?

When Thor gets to the hospital, he ignores everyone on the way, not even bothering with a glance towards Sigyn’s direction when the nurse attempts to stop him at the station. He _needs_  to talk to his brother right fucking now. Thor knows he cannot deal with this on his own.

Only when he enters the room, he is immediately greeted by the sight of an empty bed. His stomach churns. Where the fuck is his brother?

A sob echoes from the bathroom. It's a gut-wrenching sound that makes his feet grow cold. Thor crosses the floor, feeling his pulse grow erratic as he breaks into the bathroom and finds Loki crying in the shower.

“Oh god.”

Thor sprints into the room and ignores the water that's soaking his shirt, surprised by the heat that’s quickly burning his skin and wondering how Loki even managed the temperature. He shuts the damn thing off. Thor hauls him into his arms, catching Loki’s eyes for a split-second before crushing him with his arms, absorbing the tremors of Loki’s body as his brother falls into a fit of shivers.

“I can’t breathe, Thor.”

Thor ignores the nagging sting of fear, focuses on shielding Loki’s still naked body so his brother would not freeze from the cold. He squeezes Loki's shoulders tighter, his own head spinning with panic as he marks his words into Loki’s hair, “I’ve got you.”

He reaches for the towel above the sink and throws it over Loki’s shoulders to keep him warm. There are warms breaths huffed across his shoulders, and the chattering teeth pressing against his shirt twists Thor’s heart in the worst way. His brother is trembling against his side, and Thor feels the jab of guilt into his guts at the fact that he can’t do anything but pull Loki closer to his side while he leads them both out of the bathroom.

And Loki doesn’t say much. He’s wrapped both of his arms around Thor’s chest and squeezes just as tight.

“Tell me how to do this,” Thor says when he’s finally positioned Loki on his bed. The oxygen tubes are a tangled on top of the nightstand, and Thor feels a wave of _déjà vu_ when he reaches for them.

Loki guides Thor's hand around the tank where the other ends of the tubes are still unplugged. His other hand guides Thor’s around his cheek to help him position the tubes into his nostrils correctly. If Loki’s hand begins shaking visibly, Thor doesn’t say anything to point it out.

Instead, he leans away to inspect if Loki is, in fact, breathing normally with the tubes now in his nose. It’s the first time Thor is able to really study the state his brother is in. There are crescent marks of nails engraved across Loki's collarbones, perhaps a reminder of how Loki clawed at his own chest in an attempt to calm himself. He’s soaking still even when he's wrapped by a towel, and Thor rummages through the bags to retrieve a fresh set of clothes for his brother.

Thor settles for thicker sweats that would help his brother adjust to the cold. He begins to put up a dry pair of boxers, but Loki shies away. One of his hands detaches from the tubes to stop Thor's wrist from stooping midway as if to say  _don't_.

But Thor catches Loki’s eyes with a look that voices out his harmless intentions, and Loki is already shivering from head to toe so there's really not much complaining he could do. Removing his hand from Thor's wrist, Loki eventually gives in.

Thor helps him slip into his sweats, with Loki still shivering on the sheets and completely incapable of dressing himself. A weight begins setting on Thor’s chest. Loki is opening up to him, welcoming him into his personal space and Thor feels nothing but unwelcome from the gesture. He feels like he’s not doing anything right even as Loki regards him a small tentative gaze while Thor works with the shirt. He can’t help but feel like what he’s doing isn’t enough even though he’s already trying.

“What’s in your head?” Thor asks a while later, when Loki is already comfortably lying against the pillows and breathing normally on his own. Thor remains seated next to the bed, though he can’t help but notice the strange way his brother is staring at him. “Is there anything you need, Lo?”

For a moment, Loki sets him with a look that makes Thor think that his brother is going to say something. Thor waits for the words, waits for another favor of some sort or perhaps a rebuke from the pathetic excuse of aid he’s shown to Loki earlier, but the words don’t come. Instead, Loki reaches for his wrist and says, “Just stay.”

And Thor does, settling more comfortably on the chair as he recalls the very same request Loki had asked him back when they were younger. He forgets about class, forgets about football training with the risk of having Coulson scream into his face for a week, forgets about the impulse to pounce on Loki with questions about their potential sister and focuses on his brother, who's lying across the bed so weak and helpless, and whose eyes are boring into Thor’s as he pleads him to stay.

Thor’s heart grows heavy at the sight. He wishes it was him suffering instead, not his younger brother.

****…** **

Loki blinks awake a few hours later, if the downpour outside the window should be telling. He blinks again and finds Thor fast asleep next to the bed, one of his arms comfortably nestling against the blankets and his head just barely propped up by a pillow. 

Thor helped him in the shower that morning. On any other day, Loki would be horrified over the idea of Thor witnessing him in his weakest state and actually _lending_ his hand to him all because Loki could not physically get up on his own. But as he watches his older brother sleep, Loki searches for the fear and bitterness within his own depths and finds nothing but numbness. He’s tired. He doesn’t want to feel things anymore.

A movement catches the corner of his eye. Loki whirls around in panic and finds Odin sitting on his left.

“My son.”

“Why are you here?” Loki croaks, keeping his guard up again. He must remain calm. An attack presently fucking him up right now with his very own father in the room to witness the whole thing would be the perfect recipe for a disaster.

Odin crooks his head. “Must I have a reason for visiting you?”

“You’ve certainly had every reason to abandon me and think so little of me in every chance you got,” Loki scoffs, appalled. “If you’re here to pick Thor up, I’ll gladly leave you so you could have your way and see your way out.”

“I’m not here for Thor, my son. I wanted to see how you were doing.”

“Is that a first then? Well, consider this as my first time to openly reject your meddling even as you put up this pathetic act to appear so _concerned _.__  Tell me, dad. Has mom lost all interest in putting up with your absence that she’s left the house to spend the nights here?”

Loki doesn’t bite his tongue, not anymore. His words should not be held back, so they won’t, and fuck it if he’s going beyond respect now. Odin has gone beyond being a father to him _years_ ago.

“Consider this insincere, then,” Odin says. “I’ve had my own faults as your father and you do have a good way of reminding me on occasions I tend to forget myself.”

“You weren’t always this easy,” Loki all but spits. It’s a mystery to him now, why Odin is here, why he’s suddenly ripping himself apart and openly voicing out his mistakes. It only makes Loki chuckle. “A confession, now? After all these years? Has someone had the pleasure to remind you just how far you are from being a father?”

But Odin barely hides his smile. “I haven’t always been kind, have I?”

His father isn’t taking the bait. He should be biting back, jabbing at Loki’s barely sugarcoated insults with his own.

“You expect me to respond to that?” Loki grits his teeth. “Why are you like this?”

He could only pray that his father is not here in the expanse of his doctor. Odin must not find out. Loki simply cannot bear the thought of his father knowing.

“I’ve had my reasons, my son.”

“Reasons I would so gladly reconsider if you only admitted to having them in the first place.”

Thor lightly stirs, jostling the bed with a slight shake. Loki spares his brother a glace, sending a prayer that Thor would not have to awaken at the very moment Loki is still trying to have a decent conversation with their father. Then Odin speaks up again.

“You may despise me, but I need you to know that you are still my son and that I am still your father.” Odin sets him with a wary look. “If something terrible happens to you, you come to us. To your mom. And…” he gestures towards Thor’s sleeping form, “to your brother, seeing as he’s indeed trying.”

Utter bullshit. Was that supposed to make Loki feel better? The old man certainly isn’t trying hard enough. Does he know just how _transparent_ he is?

“It would be unwise to think that I’ve bent to your will after your little speech.” Loki sets him with a glare. “You’re far too self-centered to even think about turning over a new leaf.”

Odin sighs, and he gives Loki a look that’s far too unreadable. “I’ve always imagined you’d be a completely different person, even before you were born.”

Loki scoffs, downright offended.

“If you found yourself entirely disappointed, which I wager you _definitely_ were, consider me understanding enough, because anyone whose first child was so golden would be utmost frustrated to see their second child grow up to be a huge disappointment.”

“Oh, my boy,” says Odin with that nerving smile, wholly taking Loki aback. “Frigga was right. You’ve always been so perceptive, but even now, you still fail to read between the lines.”

Loki snarls. “What's that supposed to mean?”

Then Thor startles awake, and the moment is gone. Odin is soon forced to rise from his seat when Loki tells them both to leave.

He catches the way Thor looks at their father, with a scorching glare to Odin’s back as they exit the room. He tries to pull Thor’s attention and ask just what the fuck is going on but Loki is already left alone with no one in sight to talk to.

…

It’s been days since Thor found out, and for those days, Thor has only ever stuck to thinking. Researching. Trying to find any traces of that woman inside Odin’s study who, apparently, also comes by as Odinsdottir. Thor has been aching to talk to his brother about the matter, but nature and his own sense of time just seem to keep pulling him back from the chance. His own worries are piling up in his head, and whenever he sees Frigga, he’s immediately forced to grow perceptive of her actions and try to figure out just how much his mother _knows _.__

So he doesn’t talk to Loki for a long while, and Loki doesn’t bother reaching out. The cycle proves bearable for Thor these last few days, barely pulling him away from his focus as he survives through the rest of the semester together with the constant football training that goes until evening.

He bears the silence, until he just doesn’t anymore.

One afternoon, both Odin and Frigga are in the house, occupied with supper in the kitchen. Thor storms into the room and slams the documents onto the dining table, effectively startling both of his parents. “Who is she?”

Frigga is the first to recover. “Darling, I don’t understand what—”

Thor sneaks a glance to Odin, who is visibly eyeing the papers on the table. To prove his point, Thor steals the first page above the stack and holds it up for everyone to see. It’s the birth certificate.

“Who the fuck is Hela?” He turns to Odin. “She was in this house the other night, I _heard_ you, dad. Who is she?”

He ignores the sharp pang in his chest when he sees Frigga deflate and throw a disapproving frown at Odin. So she knew, then.

Thor turns to her. “How could you not tell us?”

“Thor, honey. It was a difficult time, and—”

“My son,” Odin interrupts. He approaches Thor and takes the document from his hand, setting it down onto the table. His one good eye glints under the kitchen headlights. “She’s your sister.”

Thor’s brain stutters for a moment, his own gaze focusing on the look his father is giving him and secretly praying that whatever truth is held in that eye would be nothing but a false assumption.

He doesn’t even know where the pain is stemming from. It jabs low into his stomach and fills him with the searing wave of betrayal, forcing him to turn himself inside out and comprehendthe information even though he can’t even begin to get himself to _acknowledge_ it.

Words pile into his throat. Thor tears his gaze from his parents, not really knowing what to say. “How?”

Odin slides into a chair and clears his throat. A pair of arms sneak around Thor’s shoulders but he ignores them, still refusing to give into the comfort offered by his mother.

“After I married your mother, I’ve had an affair with a woman,” Odin begins. “I broke your mother’s heart twice when I bore a little girl with that whore. Hela, too, was sick; arms too thin like twigs and body so weak enough that she cannot, for her life, move too much in fear of a persistent fatigue,” he pauses. “Just like your brother.”

Thor deflates against the kitchen counter. When Frigga’s arms wrap around him again, he doesn’t flinch away.

“And because she was my child, I tried to help her, but her sickness grew beyond both our control. I hid the truth from your mother back then, stole a huge share of our savings just so my child from another woman could be put on the hospital bed.” Every word weighs heavily on Thor’s chest as he listens. Frigga’s hold around him grows tighter. “Hela grew tired, and I was losing my wealth that I soon had nothing to give. Your mother found out eventually, and seeing as there was nothing more I could do for the child other than give her a share of money for the hospital bills, I abandoned her and left her alone with her own mother.”

Odin fixes his eye over Thor. “I knew I couldn’t witness another child of my own going through that torment, so I bore you happily with your mother. You were a healthy young boy. Perfect in every way, like the sun had bestowed its own glow upon your tiny head.” He musters a smile. “You were everything I could have asked for, but your mother and I knew better. So we bore your brother, but we he was not as lucky as you.”

The truth cuts deep into his flesh that he's left aching and desperate to forget the words that have been spoken. Thor closes his eyes and sees flashes of the night on the ocean.

“I feared this would happen again. That Loki would grow just as sick, and I would fail once again to be strong enough for him. I nearly lost your sister. I don’t know what I would do if I lost your brother too.” Odin pauses to give Thor one long glance. “Funny how things have returned to me.”

Oh, that drives him mad.

“Are you listening to yourself, dad?”

Frigga curls a hand around his wrist. “Honey, please. let’s not.”

Thor jerks away from her grasp. “No, mom. I can’t let this happen again.” He turns to his father. “Is that why you always backed away when Loki grew sick? Why you never bothered checking up on him like mom ever did even when he was still young?” Thor rounds the table, glaring at Odin. “Are you a coward, dad? _Are_ you?”

His blood rushes cold in his veins, and he’s fuming with the anger that’s slowly building up beneath his chest. How? Why did this have to happen? To him? To _Loki,_ of all people?

Why can’t his father be strong enough?

The frown that ghosts over Odin’s face is an answer enough. Odin doesn’t say anything, so Thor doesn’t bother asking again. He bolts out of the room while heaving, ignoring Frigga’s voice that trails behind him.

****…** **

He has high hopes on alcohol. Thor studies the glass in his hand, meeting his own reflection.

Wind brushes past the trees and sends them swinging, their branches rattling through the silence and filling the void inside Thor’s head. The porch is deserted at this time of the night, with Odin having left the house after his confession, and Frigga herself tidying up the remnants of their untouched dinner in the kitchen.

His phone lies above the wooden panels, one of his feet causing them to creak whenever he shifts on his seat. The hour isn’t late still, so Loki would be awake and alert if Thor calls him. But what is there to say?

Thor decides against the notion and takes a full swig of liquor.

“Your brother has never had so much as a pint of alcohol in his life.”

The muscles on his back grow tense as Frigga enters his space. Thor clicks his jaw and sets his eyes on the desolate road.

“That’s because it’ll kill him.”

He’s still antsy about their exchange earlier that he doesn’t bother asking her to leave. Frigga occupies the empty seat two feet away from him.

“I like to think it’s because you’ve always warned him off it.”

A pause. More rattling in the branches. Thor curses himself for being so weak, tears himself open and vulnerable and ready to bleed raw.

“Dad said she was sick.” He swallows a breath. “What happened to her?”

“Stage four leukemia.” Frigga follows with a sigh. “She was still so young when her doctors gave up on her. Your father was the only one left trying, putting her through the best treatment even though the doctors told him that he would need to count off the days left before she… It was hard for your father, until Hela recovered and was sent home from the hospital.”

“But he left her and never looked back.”

“He had to. I wouldn’t allow him to take Hela away when her mother was still there. And besides,” she pauses. “I wanted to have you and your brother.”

A frown pulls at his face. Thor tries covering it up with another swig.

“Your mind is going places,” Frigga comments, idly reaching out to stroke his back. “How are you now?”

“It’s… a lot to take in,” Thor admits, hanging his head low. He doesn’t brush Frigga’s hand away. “I don’t even know how Loki’s going to take this.”

“You’re going to tell your brother then?”

“How is that—?” He shakes his head at the ridiculous question, cutting himself off. The glass in his hand remains half-empty. “Of course I’m going to tell him, it’s just… _god_.”

He swallows thickly, desperate to compose himself.

“I just feel like I’m in Loki's shoes for once. Looking at dad from a non-tinted glass, feeling like you don’t really understand anything that’s happening around you. I mean, I don’t know what to trust, what to _understand._ It doesn’t make any sense.” Thor runs a hand through his hair. “If dad once had a child who’s exactly like Loki, why can’t he treat Loki differently if he fears seeing his own son suffer? How the hell is dad making any sense now?”

_He reminds me of memories, boy._

“Your father has never been open,” Frigga admits with a frown, “not to you and your brother. He ran from his past, simply because he nearly lost his daughter. And he wanted to move on, to start another life with his real family, to hope for the best that things would work out well this time.” She pauses, gives him a forlorn but earnest expression. “Finding out about Loki’s condition only made it hard for him to actually move forward.”

“That’s not an excuse,” Thor scoffs. “How many times has he ever visited Loki on his own will? Don’t even get me started on how he was around Loki even before we left for college. It’s no longer a surprise why Loki seemed cold around dad as well.” He adds bitterly, “They never had a connection.”

“Sadly, the things you said are true.” Frigga sighs, and Thor ignores the sadness lacing her tone. “I admit your father could be indifferent to his family, but he is not fearless. What _can_  he do now that Loki is in the hospital again? He’s just as helpless as the both of us."

Frigga reaches for his hand and squeezes. Thor lets her do it, watches his own palm fall pliant against hers.

“He goes on business trips to sell properties and retrieve the cash as soon as it comes just because they’ll drop your brother from his treatment if the conditions aren’t met. Even taking a week off from work was a huge risk for me because the money I earn is quite a handful, but I couldn’t ask you to handle your brother on your own while you have your own responsibilities. I couldn’t ask that of you, my son.”

Thor closes his eyes, allows those words to settle heavily on his shoulders.

“Why now?” he demands, growing frustrated. “Neither of you and dad bothered mentioning so much as her existence in the past few years, but she’s out here all of the sudden. Why is that? Are you telling me that neither of us would have known that we had a sister until something drastic like Loki getting _sick_  again happened?”

Thor understands that those words hit their mark when Frigga flinches and pulls her hand away.

“We’ve never really gotten in contact with Hela. Your father only sought her out because he had no other choice; Hela is a successful businesswoman herself with enough means to support your brother without having to meddle.”

Frigga seeks his eyes, but Thor refuses to give in even as the next words she says are the ones that truly plaster him onto the ground so he could open his eyes and just fucking _accept_ it.

“Your brother’s treatment is far too important, my dear, and your father and I would do _anything_  to get him out of that bed.”

He also understands that he could no longer doubt the sincerity in her voice.

****…** **

Thor slips into the room as quietly as he can, but Loki notices his presence immediately, his gaze already breaking away from his book. “Visiting hours are over. How did you get in?”

Thor closes the door behind him with a soft _click_. “Sigyn.”

Loki hums, “I figured,” then returns to his book before stealing another glimpse at Thor, one eyebrow raised. “Are you ever not going to stop drinking?”

Usually, Thor would bite out a retort in his own defense, would try to set Loki in a loop and have his brother admit that there’s nothing really wrong with excessive drinking when Thor is acting very much like a responsible drinker. On other days, Thor would laugh and brush his brother away, and Loki would roll his eyes at him and continuously emphasize the dangers of alcohol to one’s health.

But right now in this very space, with the night already growing late and Loki himself visibly sagging against the sheets, Thor could feel nothing but desolation. He searches for his brother’s eyes, feeling the large lump in his throat, and realizes that he doesn’t really know what to say. What to _begin_ with.

For all his strength, all he could come up with is, “Can I stay the night?"

Thor could swear upon seeing _surprise_ flash across his brother’s face at the question. And Loki, bless him, does nothing else but heave a sigh at the pages of his book and gesture towards the couch. “Just don’t throw up on the leather.”

With a relieved breath, Thor takes up the couch. He hesitates upon plopping onto it, but a quick glance to his brother tells him that Loki is unbothered by his presence as he skims the text on the book. So Thor shrugs his jeans off, settles more comfortably on the cushion and watches his brother read.

“You could always take a break if you want to, you know. The bags under your eyes look hideous.”

Loki huffs. 

“Not an option. I’ll have you know that my brain functions ten times faster when the night is practically dead and no one within four feet from me would be dense enough to use their mouth for their mindless _amusement _.__ ”

The laugh that barks out of Thor comes out as a sound that surprises even himself. “I won’t snore, I promise!”

Loki all but sends him a glare, though Thor definitely doesn’t miss the faint smile his brother tries to hide behind the book.

“Go to sleep, Thor.”

“Alright, Lo. You too.” Thor settles on his back and faces the wide expanse of the ceiling. “Good night.”

Is this how it feels to _seek_? To want to search for answers, or comfort, and perhaps just wait it out when they still refuse to be given? As Thor takes in his own situation, he realizes why he’s gone to Loki in the first place. That when the times of affliction come, there’s no where else worth running to than his own brother’s side.

His worries don’t leave his head until he loses all train of thought. Thor sends a wishful prayer and falls asleep to the sound of Loki turning pages.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nope, Loki is not adopted in this story, but he and Thor still look very much like they do in the MCU. Blood siblings, but not identical. 
> 
> The song Frigga sings to Loki is "[May It Be](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_8u4VLk0iTI)" by Enya from the Lord of the Rings Soundtrack! :)


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor deals with the revelation on his own until he just couldn’t keep it from his brother anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of conversations coming up! Also, we're only a few chapters away from the end? Odin will have his spotlight back in chapter 11, just you wait :)
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

 

 

In the following week, Loki gets a surprising number of visitors on several different occasions.

The first one to visit him is a pair of jocks that Loki could only really remember from occasional encounters along the bleachers. Another experience is during that one embarrassing run-in in the gym’s locker room when Loki had decided to look for Thor himself instead of texting him all because Thor couldn’t be bothered to read any of those messages.

Fandral and Volstagg hover by the door with uncertain expressions on their faces. Loki regards them both with a raised eyebrow.

“Unless you’re looking you’re looking for Thor who obviously isn't around at the moment, please see your way out. I don’t have any time to spare for friends of his.“

“No, it’s not—” Fandral rushes out. “We’re not actually here for Thor.”

“Well, I don’t suppose I remember jotting down a list of those who may visit me aside from Sif.”

“You’re Thor’s brother. Have you even seen him lately? The guy’s nearly going nuts with all the pressure. I figured we could stop by and find out what he’s dealing with.”

“ _Dealing_ with?” Loki scowls, entirely displeased. “Has it occurred to you that any business with Thor involving myself is none of your business at all?”

It’s Volstagg who speaks this time, throwing an arm in front of Fandral before the guy could say another word. “What he meant to say, my friend, is that we’re hoping to find out what Thor is going through because he hasn’t talked to us both in the last few days and has now taken to skipping training for three hours every day without even approaching our coach.”

Loki pauses at that. “He’s been skipping?”

“When we train in the evening, yeah.”

“But your next game is in less than a month,” Loki reconsiders, then sighs before either of the guys could press any further. “I don’t see how you think I would be of any help to your problem. Thor doesn’t stay around unless the professors in my classes ask him to lend the textbooks I need for finals, which I really have to prepare for, if you wouldn't mind.”

He returns to the reviewers in his hands that he’s abandoned when the two first entered the room. On any other time, Loki would probably still find the decency in himself to entertain Thor’s friends with idle talk, but he’s also pretty damn serious when he says he _really_ needs to be studying.

Apparently, these two idiots just don’t get that.

“You know, I’ve seen Thor act around like nothing could get under his skin,” Fandral begins, brows pulled together. “Hasn’t thrown a fist into anyone’s face on the field no matter how pissed he got, which technically isn’t true anymore since he’s been called into the dean’s office with your dad after that little brawl with this guy from our team. Did you even know that?”

Loki doesn’t say anything. He keeps his eyes glued to the pages but listens.

“Volstagg has even tried getting something out of Thor quite recently, but the guy just wouldn’t talk.”

“Wouldn’t let me pry into his head,” says Volstagg. “He came to the dorms last week, sometime around midnight. Soaking from head to toe, got the carpet all wet from just slumping on his bed.” Loki catches his eye when he looks up from his reviewers. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he spent those hours training on the field, but it couldn’t be. That just wouldn’t be right. It was raining that night, and Thor spent the entire time in the field doing god knows what.”

Fandral shrugs. “He’s stopped showing up during training after that night. Coulson’s been on our tails since then, asking us to corner Thor and knock some senses into him in case he’s still looking forward to play in the semi-finals. But what do I know? He’s began skipping classes too.”

“For how long?” Loki presses, curious.

“You should ask Sif,” Fandral answers. “Thor has stopped showing up in class ever since that day where he and Sif… well. Sif _did_ say that they once came here together."

Loki immediately understands what occasion they're implying. He clenches his jaw. “And Sif told you _what _,__ exactly?”

“It was Thor, actually.” Volstagg throws a sympathetic look towards Loki’s direction. Loki scowls at the sight of him. “He didn’t go into specifics, but he did say that something happened. He also said he needed some time to think.”

A lump forms in his throat. Loki swallows it down and forces his vision to clear. He returns to the two. “And you’re telling me this, why?”

Fandral responds, unabashed. “Because it’s obviously about you.”

Loki blanches. “ _Excuse_ me?”

“Look.” Volstagg resigns with a sigh. He runs a hand through his beard. “That’s not what we meant. Thor is the most optimistic person I know, and he’s never really been bothered by outside forces no matter how much they’re tearing him apart. But even _that_ has changed, my friend.”

Loki hangs his head low. He pretends that the paragraph elaborating structural functionalism is more interesting than the two people in front of him who are exposing his brother’s troubling little ventures.

Fandral ignores Loki's pathetic act to appear unimpressed. “He’s been down in the dumps these past few days for a reason we don’t know. Keeps things to himself instead of pretending that his worries aren’t there, and considering that you know your own brother well enough, you definitely know that Thor speaks with his heart on his sleeve. He’s never hidden anything, not from us. But from you? _Likely_." 

“You don’t know anything,” Loki snaps. “I fail to understand what it is you’re implying. If you came here to sate your curiosity, then I’d say it was entirely foolish of you since you're already aware of the fact that I know _nothing_ about my brother’s whereabouts.”

He quickly breaks his gaze, feeling the first signals of another wave. Calm down, Odinson. There’s no need to lash out at the moment. _Breathe _.__

Volstagg seems to notice the way Loki grabs at his chest because he shoots Fandral a warning look and places a hand on his knee.

“Are you alright, my friend?” he asks gently.

“Fine,” Loki bites out, careful not to grimace that much. He settles his hand over the sheets and grips. “I wasn’t lying when I told you that Thor only ever came here when I needed something. The last time he visited was only a few days ago, slept here when our mom wasn’t around for the night.”

Volstagg sighs at that, perhaps sensing the sincerity in Loki’s voice.

“If there’s anything else you’d like me to say even though there’s only _so_ much I know about what my brother has been doing, please feel free to leave the room all at once. I don’t have all the time in the world for finals.”

Fandral and Volstagg exchange a look of hesitance before finally leaving. Jesus christ. So much for entertaining the guests. 

 ** **…****  

Thor’s gaze is heavy on the sidewalk outside the window, both of his legs cramped in the leg room in front of the passenger seat. Odin’s driving isn’t exactly what he would consider as hasty, but his father is driving fast enough that even the slightest jerk of the car as it switches from lane to lane is enough to make Thor’s head spin.

He _would_  be sitting through another lecture from Professor Selvig at the moment, but Frigga had been very insistent when she suggested going for a drive with his father so they could, and to quote her, “get their relationship functioning”.

He almost snorts at the exact moment Odin slows down near a gas station. This whole pathetic attempt to get him and his father talking is ridiculous and awkward and utterly frustrating. Thor _hates_  every second of the ride.

“I left my wallet.” Odin harrumphs, whirling around in his seat. “Do you have any bills, son?”

Thor scoffs loudly. “Do you have any idea how much Loki _despises_  you?”

That entices a chuckle from Odin, and Thor’s eyes begin drilling holes into the side window at the sound of it.

“You think I don’t know my own son?” Odin shakes his head. The atmosphere inside the car shifts. “I’ve learnt the twist and turns of your brother’s mind like the palm of my hand. He’s always been a bright mischievous child, seeking the ocean when you would not. He has a strong mind, always has, but _here_?”

Thor reluctantly faces his father. Odin brings his forefinger to his chest, just above his heart.

“Your brother has always been weak here, weaker than I ever allowed myself to realize. He shatters easily when he’s vulnerable, and as a child, he’s always been vulnerable, so he built walls around his heart. Sealed it away so no one else would hurt him there except for himself."

The car in front of them pulls out of the station. Odin presses down on the accelerator and Thor fishes out a couple of bills from his pocket, exiting the car to deal with the refill. It’s all but an excuse to stall, really. He can’t stand being in that car and having to sit through his father’s bullshit.

Once he’s back inside the car, Odin rolls into the highway. Thor gathers up all the strength he has left and manages, “That doesn’t make any sense.”

His father gives him a sideways glance. “No, it doesn't," he considers, "but your brother hasn’t always opened his arms to you, has he?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Your brother has never wanted to be coddled,” Odin says, like it’s the simplest truth there is to it. A second of utter silence passes. Thor hears the screeching of tires, the tapping of fingers against his denim-clad jeans. His father turns into a curb and sighs. “In a way, he grew much stronger then. I never got to see that growth up close, but I still understood how his mind worked. Loki wanted to appear strong, and because of that desire to seem unaffected from his condition, he began refusing affection from his family.”

“But why do this to him?” Thor presses, frustrated. “If you knew that Loki only grew cold from the fear of appearing weak, why didn’t you do anything? You’re supposed to be _there_  for him so he wouldn’t feel so alone!”

His breathing stops short. Thor forces himself to arrive at a state of calm before relaxing in his seat. Calm the fuck down, Odinson.

“Your brother’s quite different from Hela,” says Odin. “Much different. Hela once hated me for leaving her as a child, but she’s never refused my aid. On the contrary, Loki pushes me away and acts strong. I needed to test that strength, that _hatred_ , if his hatred for me as a father now would surpass the hatred he would have for the father that failed Hela in another life. And for that, I have always been afraid.”

Thor turns to his father slowly, finding that the man has plastered his eyes to the road but his fingers tightening visibly around the wheel. Something in Odin’s voice tells Thor to force himself to listen, so he does.

“Hela almost died.” The car begins to speed down the lane. “I remember being that pathetic 27-year-old man losing his head over the money just because the hospital bills demanded too much. I remember screaming at her doctors for telling me the same thing: I only have months left before she drifts away, and I couldn’t handle the pain alone, so your mother helped me get through. She was never happy with my infidelity, but not even a woman as perfect as her could be heartless to ignore the plea of a dying child.”

An resigned sigh. Thor studies his father and sees a frown etched across his weary features.

“The memory still haunts me as well as your mother,” continues Odin. They head down the neighborhood. “And when Loki came, he became the proof of my fears coming back. That night by the ocean… he almost drowned. And as I held onto your mother, I voiced out my sorrows to her shoulder for I never expected to see another of my children go through the same experience Hela had. I could only be thankful enough that you pulled your brother out before it was too late.”

Thor squeezes his eyes shut to the rest of the world, finding his own eyes brimming with tears. The memory is sharp, indeed. Loki, pale-stricken, fingers brittle and shaking when Thor first dragged him back out into the surface. 

_What the fuck are you doing, Odinson? Crying like a child in front of your heartless father._

But as Thor looks up at his father’s weary state, he sees only himself. Built up of strength on the outside, though fear is written all over his wrinkled face. Thor looks back to his time as a child, running in the backyard with their dog, golden under the shining of the sun without knowing how lonely his brother felt inside the house.

And Loki never called him, never asked for his attention when it wasn’t being given, refused to give the weakest parts of himself to Thor all because he refused to appear _fragile _.__

The car jerks into an abrupt halt.

“I’m not a perfect father, my boy,” Odin whispers, reaching across the center console to take Thor’s hand in his. “Far from it. I have let fear overrule my heart, which, in turn, made me ignore Loki’s unvoiced pleas for help. You may not notice it now, but as much as it pains me to admit this, your brother is… struggling. I’ve known about his attacks since he returned to the hospital despite his attempts to hide them, and believe me, I’m doing everything I can to make sure that he will not run short of the best treatment there is. Your sister is also there to make sure of that.”

Thor releases Odin’s hand. He spends the rest of the drive home looking outside the window.

****…** **

The next day, Loki arrives face-to-face with his own doctor for the second time.

“So your brother found out,” is the first thing Dr. Heimdall says as a greeting, automatically taking the chair next to Loki’s bed. “I suppose he didn’t take the news well, did he? Seeing as you are, in fact, having silent heart attacks.”

Loki looks up from his notebook, glaring at the man. “Is that how you talk to your patients, doc? I was once told that doctors are technically supposed to be nosy to get information from their patients, but it seems like you’re far too invasive even for a job like this.”

He gets a chuckle in return. “It’s amusing to see how transparent you think you are.”

That hits a nail so hard that Loki has to bite his lips to refrain from saying something _beyond_ ill-mannered. And come to think of it, he’s had enough time since Dr. Heimdall’s last visit to get around the very brief idea that his doctor has _definitely_  gone out of his way to push Loki’s buttons around.

“Any reason you intended this hour to visit me, doc?” Loki asks instead.

“Oh, yes.” Dr. Heimdall shifts on his seat and scratches his knee through his slacks. He musters up a considering grin. “Seems like your father is quite the man.”

“You barely even know him,” Loki snaps, hard and biting. “I know for a fact that he’s too occupied in his agendas that he wouldn’t spend a second of his day to ever think about the notion of _visiting _.__ ”

“Indeed,” nods the man, adding, “but he _has_  dropped by my office more than once last week.”

 _…how?_  

“Why didn’t he visit me then?” Loki demands, completely losing control over his anger, the image of Odin stepping a foot into the hospital without any notice stroking the fire inside his chest. His fists clench underneath the sheets, a low rumble inside his stomach resonating through his ears.

Dr. Heimdall breaks into an amused smile, his eyes skimming over Loki’s features clinically. “So you _do_ care.”

Loki ignores the bait. “Did you tell him?” 

“First-hand discussions with my patient's family are always made with the patient around.”

“Oh, don’t you weasel around this, doc, you’re much _better_  than that!” He stabs a finger into his doctor’s direction and glares, mouth ajar and breaths coming short. Loki clenches his jaw, wishing he would not have to bear the knowledge of Odin finding out about his pathetic secrecy. “Did you tell him about my attacks?”

"I should be offended," says Dr. Heimdall. “I did vow upon my confidentiality, if you fail to remember.”

Loki grits his teeth. “So why did my own father, of all people, _come_ to you?”

This time, his doctor gives off nothing but soft chuckle. “What do you think?”

Had he the strength, Loki would definitely screw his own decency and straight up strangle the man at this very moment. His doctor is prodding at the right places, asking the right questions where Loki would surely find himself trapped in a speechless fit, almost as if the doctor  _knows_  what he’s getting himself into.

And Loki has been right all along with the choice to doubt the man and become wary of his bluntness.

“You shouldn’t underestimate your parents,” Dr. Heimdall tells him eventually. He rises from his seat and gives Loki a sidelong glance. “They’ll have to learn the truth whether you like it or not." 

He stalks out the room without another word. Loki buries his head into his head and remembers that Thor _knows _.__

He could only hope that Thor wouldn’t be impulsive enough to alert their parents of the episode that took place last week.

**...**

Thor decides he can’t hide it any longer.

He drives to the hospital three days after his last conversation with his father in the car. The tremors that racked through his body at the last couple of sentences Odin told him continuously followed Thor into his sleep when he lies awake at night. He uses his own anger to fuel his launches across the field when he shows up one day during their training and successfully avoids all of Fandral’s attempts to spark a conversation with him.

Thor's excuses go as far as sulking in his class. Professor Selvig has gotten his point across enough when he blocks Thor’s path to prevent him from ever leaving the room after his class on a Wednesday.

The professor manages a tight grip around Thor’s wrist. “Do you really hate sitting through my class this much or have you just grown fond over the idea of staying angry for the whole week?”

Thor sighs, knowing that the man could read through him so well. “It’s not a big deal, Prof.”

“It is when almost everyone, including myself, has noticed your obvious absence from my class in the past week.” Professor Selvig shoots him a warning look. “Do remember that I’m holding online classes with your brother. I’m only one email away from telling him how you’ve been holding up in class.”

He releases Thor then, stepping aside to allow passage out the door. Thor runs towards the field and drains all of his energy on legwork routines.

He shouldn’t let any of this get under his skin, but he’s still very much pissed off at his father, and the days until finals are growing shorter that he just can’t help but lose his head in the process of _holding it in _.__

That was yesterday, though. As Thor pulls into the hospital’s parking lot, he contemplates sneaking a couple of snacks into his brother’s room. Sigyn did advise him to get his brother manage a few mouthfuls for the sake of the drugs working, but she didn’t exactly specify  _what_  to feed him.

So when he enters the hospital, it’s with two packs of crackers in his bag. His fingers fall heavily on the doorknob, dragging a second or two to stall before Thor finally thinks _screw it_ and pushes the door to step inside.

The room is empty.

He kicks the door to the bathroom, finding it empty as well. No traces of his brother anywhere. The wheelchair is gone. Loki’s phone missing. Thor heads immediately to the nurses’ station and searches for Sigyn.

“Where is he?” he asks, frantic.

Sigyn turns to him with a considering look. The frown on her face stands out greatly as she sighs at Thor and returns to the bottles on the counter. “He went to the garden.”

“Alone?”

“Alone.”

That should be a relief. Not the alone part, at least, but it _should_  be a good thing. The last time Thor went to visit Loki at this hour, he was met by an… incident. Another one of those occasions following the overdose that Thor only ever felt himself go insane with the amount of fear pressing down on his shoulders. Thor runs to the garden with the very same fear pooling in the back of his head.

Then he sees Loki, slumped on his wheelchair as he sits alone under the row of trees near the fountain. He’s thumbing through the pages of a book, faced pulled in enough concentration that Thor hesitates to ever step forward and announce his presence.

A muscle inside his brain decides otherwise and forces him to shift on his feet.

“You’re not supposed to be moving around,” Thor says as a greeting. Loki lifts his gaze from the pages and grins.

“Sigyn gave me permit.”

“For real? That nurse is definitely far more perceptive than I give her credit for,” Thor snorts, plopping down on the bench next to the wheelchair. “How did you even get through her?”

“Well, technically she isn’t stupid enough to allow me to leave the room in any circumstance,” Loki begins, his grin ever-present, “but I told her I’m getting weaker. If I have any time left to go here, then I should be allowed to go while I still can.”

That strikes a chord.

“Loki.” Thor frowns. “Whatever it is you’re pulling off, it’s not funny. Why the fuck would you say that?”

“Oh, please. Spare me from your vocal distaste over my life choices.” The sound of children playing bubbling in laughter fades into the background as Thor watches his brother dive once more into the text on the pages. “Sigyn might be of authority, but there’s nothing that feigning words of desperation wouldn’t do.”

“Say that again when you’re not dragging your own life into your stubborn little methods.” Thor shakes his head, going for calm when his head wouldn’t stop replaying the words recently spoken by his brother.

Surely, his brother wouldn’t seriously opt for making his condition a complete jest when—

He stops.

As Thor stares at his brother's face, the guilt building inside him makes a great show of twisting his guts just so he could remember _how much_  Loki doesn’t know about the situation Thor is currently struggling to handle on his own. Frigga’s question and Odin’s confession ring in his ear. Both of them bringing him into his lowest position as he struggles to understand what to know, what to say, and what to do.

Here, in the garden, as the sun creeps low into the horizon and the sound of other passersby fading in the distance, Thor watches his brother read. Loki has never looked so peaceful outside the library, but as Thor studies the way Loki’s fingers trace the printed sentences on the pages, he thinks about witnessing the first of everything.

With another sigh, Thor shakes himself. Loki hums quietly under his breath when he stumbles upon a certain section of the text and Thor reaches out to lay a hand on Loki’s knees.

“I need to tell you something about dad.” 

The knee beneath his palm freezes.

He could see everything. Help him, Thor could see _everything_. Starting with the way Loki’s gaze breaks away from the book to glance at Thor’s hand on his knee, until it snaps to Thor’s face when the words are finally spoken and ringing out in the air for him to hear clearly. Loki’s whole body tenses visibly at the one single word Thor uses to refer to their parents, and his eyes lose the green in them as the clock ticks in a slow momentum.

Thor watches intently, waits as he sees everything go off on Loki’s face, holds his breath as he watches the surprise flash across his brother’s eyes in a second that has surely stretched into a full minute unbiased if Thor himself hasn’t been counting the seconds too quickly in his head.

“Lo,” Thor tries weakly, squeezing Loki’s knee. But Loki only reacts by pulling his leg away, effectively shoving the unwelcome hand away from his body.

“Enlighten me.”

Reluctantly, Thor reaches into his pocket for his phone. He’s not entirely certain how he could break the whole news to his brother without going mad the second he so much as mentions Odin, so he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he swipes to access the camera roll in his phone and pulls up a photo of the documents he’s recently gotten a hold of one day when Odin forgot to lock his study.

Thor offers his phone and Loki takes it without question. There’s nothing else to say. His brother is smart enough to get the briefest idea of the situation at hand by just looking at the documents.

Then Loki begins reading, his eyes skimming across the screen far quicker than Thor has ever anticipated before looking up with all the uncertainty on his face. 

“How did you find this?”

Thor swallows audibly. “Dad’s study wasn’t locked.”

His brother his focus returns on the phone. “Is she legitimate?”

The question makes Thor pause. The echo of blatant _denial_ takes Thor by complete surprise, bouncing off Loki’s eyes as he stares at the phone in his hands with such an openness across his features. Thor takes the cue and guides Loki’s finger to another photo. “You should read the receipts.”

Loki does and falls painfully silent.

Thor gives his brother a couple of seconds to register the information, starting by voicing the countdown in his head: _one, two_ —

Loki locks the phone and shoves it back into Thor’s hand. He turns away from Thor’s eyes, his back heaving in quick motions as he stares far off into the distance.

“Where is she now?”

The question hangs in the air. Thor tries to listen closely and figure out whatever emotion is held in those words but fails to find anything other than plain curiosity. Loki’s voice speaks volumes of how much he’s holding back, how much he’s trying to control himself from lashing out.

“God knows where,” Thor grumbles under his breath. “She was in the house last week, I heard her talking to dad with the study and I tried to wait it out and find out who she was, but… crap. Alright, look.”

Thor lets out the breath he’s been holding. He hangs his head low, unsure of what else there is he could say.

“I don’t really know how to feel about this, Lo.”

The glare Loki sends him is _menacing_.

“Nonsense. I’m sure you already have the closest idea as to how you’re feeling about this, seeing as you’ve had quite the amount of time to process the information before you even decided to tell me.”

“Fuck, Loki. It’s not that.” Thor runs a hand through his hair and deflates against the backrest of the bench. “Come on, Lo. I don’t want to fight.”

At the plea, Loki remains silent. Thor figures he’s said the right thing when Loki doesn’t chide him this time.

His brother leans into the wheelchair, running a finger through the spine of the book. “Did they confess?" 

“They did.” Thor nods, losing himself in the memories. “Mostly it was mom who forced me to control myself, but what the fuck do you even do in a situation like _that_? Secrets that were once hidden from you are now screaming in front of your face, and the fact that dad only acted that way around you because he—”

Loki’s hand grips his wrist.

“Sorry,” Thor rushes out, sighing for the umpteenth time. “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking. Do you want me to continue or—?”

Loki cuts him off sharply. “Did he say anything?”

Thor searches into his brother’s eyes, goes through all the cracks in his shell and finds nothing but Loki’s sheer vulnerability. Thor clears his throat, hoping his brother wouldn’t spiral into a fit of anger and before managing a weak, “Yes.”

The hand releases his wrist.

“Enlighten me.” Loki pulls away, keeping a careful eye on him, and Thor gathers all of the strength he has left to repeat Odin’s words to his brother.

For hours in the garden, Thor just talks. And for hours without arguing, Loki only listens.

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More visitors. Finals are coming up, and Loki falls into a fit of anxiety.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter begins roughly from where we ended in the last chapter.
> 
> Hold on tight! As we grow closer to the last chapter, more things happen, but there will always be light at the end. I promise you :)

 

The week rolls by in a blur. Before Loki knows it, he's sitting through another morning on a Saturday when a knock on the door interrupts his studying.

It’s not Thor. Thor wouldn’t knock. Besides, Loki hasn’t seen his brother since… the revelation. Frigga came to visit, but Loki refused to let her know that  _he_ knows, and come to think of it, it’s all just a fucked-up cycle of battling pride and fear. Loki feels like he’s always been at the bottom of the pit, never having the strength it takes to put one foot forward and haul away himself from this mess.  

The knocking grows more insistent, and Loki looks away from his phone screen to slip a quick, “Come in!”

Professor Selvig enters. His smile is inviting but his face no less wary, and despite not being Loki’s favorite professor out there in the campus, this man manages to trigger a couple of pleasant memories of the school inside Loki’s head.

“Professor,” Loki greets, slightly taken aback. “This seems rather unexpected.”

“I figured,” the man chuckles, taking the couch instead of occupying the chair next to the nightstand like Dr. Heimdall would. “I once thought that your brother wouldn’t stop rambling about your condition in this damned place, but it seems like even the big guy could forget several things from time to time. How are you?”

Loki crooks his head, challenging himself with another one of his assertive responses. “Your question is quite imprecise, don’t you think?” 

“Correction,” Professor Selvig muses, clicking his tongue. “How is your  _chest_?”

Wrong move. Loki spends a split-second recollecting his memories. Has anyone other than Thor found out about his attacks? Sif, Sigyn, and Doctor Heimdall, yes. But his own Calculus Professor?

_Steer the conversation around, Odinson._

“Still very much intact, thank you.” Loki clears his throat, makes a point of visibly fumbling with the unopened notebooks across his bed. “I assume you’re here to discuss about my classes?”

“Oh, that wouldn’t be necessary, kid.” Professor Selvig sinks into the couch, getting slightly too comfortable. Loki focuses his vision over the man, careful not to appear too perceptive. Something is happening.

This man acts oddly similar to Dr. Heimdall, and Loki is definitely  _not_  saying that it’s a good thing. The resemblance is too much for him to digest at the moment, and while he’s still trying to read the professor’s body language to try and figure out just what it is the man wants with him today (seeing as they won’t be discussing anything about his credits in class), Loki is still evidently distraught with the knowledge of Odin getting into a contact with his long-lost potential sister to put Loki in the hospital and pay the price so he would be able to  _stay_  there and undergo all the treatment.

And one would say that finals are enough to bring Loki's head into a haze.

“You know,” Professor Selvig begins conversationally, startling him. “Your brother has skipped four of my classes this week.”

Loki busies his hands with the notebooks. “I don’t see how that’s my problem.”

“You’re quick to make up your mind, aren’t you?” the professor squints, which Loki pointedly ignores. “You hear the first thing people say and arrive at multiple conclusions without even letting them finish. I’m telling you,” he presses, “your brother has been skipping, and Thor  _never_  skips.”

Oh, for crying out loud.

“Did you come here looking for Thor, professor?” Loki grits out, quickly growing irritated. “If that’s the case, allow me to leave you entirely unsatisfied because my week hasn’t been going great quite lately and I’d _hate_  to act all insincere around you.”

Instead of biting back with his own jabs, Professor Selvig's face actually  _splits_  into a grin. “He’s worried about you isn’t he?”

Loki  _scoffs _.__

“It’s not like we spend days voicing out our own fears to each other. You  _appall_  me, Professor. I thought you’d at least have the decorum to ask about sensible matters instead of prodding into our familial affairs.”

“I won’t ask then. Thor _is_  worried about you.” Professor Selvig maintains the grin and Loki looks away to avoid responding. “And he doesn’t show you that he’s worried, because if he does, you’ll see exactly how deeply he cares, and that thought alone  _terrifies_  you.”

His blood runs cold.

“Why are you telling me this?” Loki spits.

“Because your brother is obviously struggling just as you are,” Professor Selvig points out, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. His grin shifts into a knowing smirk. “You know, for an incredibly smart person, your perception is rather flawed most of the time.”

“What do you want?” Loki's jaw clicks into place, and he's embarrassed, so very embarrassed to have been caught at the wrong foot, intensively hoping that this man would not have to read so much into his head because Loki would then lose all control over his walls, and having his own walls crash at his feet would be a failure he’s not looking forward to deal with.

But when Professor Selvig looks at him this time, his smirk is gone and the expression on his face is almost earnest.

“I want you to sort this out with your brother,” he says, heading straight to the point. “Whatever it is you need to sort out. Speak about your feelings, tell him whether you’re feeling alright or not so he would know how to react to the things happening around you both because Thor cares about you as much as you care about him. Trust me, kid,” his tone gentles down enough, “you don’t want to die tomorrow having regrets.”

Loki watches wordlessly as his professor leaves. Those words may not be the ones he’s expected to hear from the man, but they resonate with him nonetheless.

**...**

After the short exchange with Professor Selvig, Loki has been glued to his laptop for most of his days just to keep up with the online classes held for him by some of the non-teaching professors in college. It’s not much, and it’s not as good as the real thing by actually sitting through class and going into the library with Sif for more references, but he’s got a real bed with him twenty-four seven, so that nearly makes up for everything he’s missing out on.

Frigga has been visiting every afternoon with the explanation of having asked her superiors to allow her a three-hour break every day. Loki is utmost delighted with the news, seeing as he’s also grown tired with spending his hours alone inside the room with no one in sight to talk to. Sigyn makes a great listener on very rare occasions, but Loki doesn’t like keeping her up when she’s probably got a dozen more patients waiting in the other wards.

And while Frigga is there to accompany him, he also doesn’t forget to read her body language in hopes of figuring out whether or not she knows about his attacks. A couple hours of observing his own mother convinced Loki that she definitely doesn't know.

Perhaps Loki gives his brother far too little credit. But who is he to blame, really. It’s rare spectacle to see Thor use his head during critical situations as such.

Day by day, Loki’s body slowly begins wearing out. His mind could only absorb so much information in a couple of hours, and not even Loki could blame himself. It’s the drugs fucking up with his system. Whatever Sigyn gave him must require his body to drain its strength on minimal gestures that even walking towards the bathroom has become tiring for Loki.

There are less than three weeks away from finals before Winter break comes around. And Thanksgiving has apparently approached too soon, with Loki managing to forget about the holiday ever existing as he’s been deeply engrossed in his studies.

Frigga leaves him alone for a couple of hours on the holiday to cook in their house. She would have to return to the hospital later on with Thor by her side, who’s still probably out in the city doing god knows what with his spare time. There are still a couple of hours before Thanksgiving dinner. A few more chapters probably wouldn’t hurt.

So by the time the next visitor shows up in the afternoon, Loki is already outright exhausted.

“Come in.” Loki’s voice is only strained from refusing to speak recently. He’s currently rolled to his side on the bed as he reads another book that’s propped up against a pillow. When the door opens, he jolts in surprise. “Dad?”

Odin strolls into the room quietly, fingers latched around the knob before clicking the door shut behind him. Loki burrows into the sheets, a wary eye trained on his father as he takes the chair beside the bed.

A voice floats into his head.  _You shouldn’t underestimate your parents. They’ll have to learn the truth whether you like it or not._

“You think I don’t know about your recent episodes?” Odin asks out of the blue. Loki’s heart drops fifty feet into the ground. His father’s one eye sparkles with an all new meaning under the lights. “Who do you think recommended you to your physician this time?”

His breath stops short.  _One, two, three. What the fuck is your father trying to say?_

Loki processes the words, dissecting them to reveal their possible meaning. The thought doesn’t hit him until a while later when Odin has already begun speaking for himself.

“Dr. Heimdall has been a friend of mine years back,” his father begins. “He used to be an oncologist for patients with leukemia, until he turned over a leaf and became a cardiologist.” Odin’s eye falls over Loki. “That was a long time ago.”

Loki drops his gaze to his lap so he would seem unfazed. “What happened to the both of you?”

“We… drifted apart.” Odin sighs, rubbing his palm over his knee. “In the span of our acquaintance, we came across circumstances that tested the strength of our friendship. There were matters that I so desperately needed help with, and Heimdall was indeed a great comrade but there were complications that even he cannot fix. In the end, we both proved to be failures. Heimdall was Hela’s first and last doctor, and when Hela grew weaker and closer to her potential passing, I gave up on her. I gave up on her doctor, because there was nothing else Heimdall could do to help.” Odin turns to Loki. “I assume your brother already told you about her.”

_…dad only acted that way around you because he—_

“He did,” Loki says, his mind barely wrapping itself around the information. He fights against all the other thoughts swarming his head. If Odin has something to say right now, Loki just  _has_  hear the end of it.

“Your mother advised me to tell Thor the truth from the very beginning, but the day came when she bore you.” Odin musters up a small smile, almost absent-minded. “A young boy, impressively clever with the sharpest wit. I told your mother I would wait until you and Thor were old enough to comprehend the truth, but one night you collapsed in the ocean, and Thor brought you to us in the sand with all the fear in his eyes.”

The ghost of the waves and the memories stab him deep and unexpectedly. Loki blinks back whatever it is that’s threatening to spill from his eyes. He’s not going to fucking break apart in front of his father.  _Pathetic child _.__

“In that exact second, you reminded me of Hela,” continues Odin. “Your own sister, abandoned by a man who was too cowardly to become her father. When your doctor spoke to us about the enlargement of your heart muscle, I knew I had little to no strength to pretend to be optimistic around you. Frigga had been insistent that I stay by your side, but I allowed fear to dampen my courage.”

“ _You_  were afraid?” Loki asks bitterly. “I've carried this weight myself my whole life and I’ve never  _once_  thought about acting like a straight-up coward in front of you. I’vebeen  _fighting_  against my fears for so long, so why didn’t you?”

A tear betrays him. Loki angrily wipes at his eyes, feeling the exhaustion kick in. 

_You can’t tell my parents._  

All his life, he’s been fighting his fear of becoming too weak in front of Odin’s eyes simply because he refused to see his father look down on him and grow  _disappointed _.__

“I know, my boy,” Odin assures, reaching out to touch Loki’s wrist but fails when Loki jerks away before he could. “On the day of the overdose, I was away because I had to reach out to your sister. From that point, I tasked Dr. Heimdall to take your case because there’s no one else out there I trust more with my sons than your own doctor.”

_Seems like your father is quite the man._

_He has dropped by my office more than once last week._

_They’ll have to learn the truth whether you like it or not._

“You ought me to believe that getting Hela back was that simple?” Loki asks, disbelieving. “Why do this now? Is it because I’m on this bed again, weak and pathetic and declining? Aren’t you supposed to be  _afraid_  of your past, dad?”

“I still am,” admits Odin. “Hela almost didn’t make it, Loki, and to this day I am still haunted by the days I spent watching her on her bed. When I confessed to her about having another son who’s suffering something similar, she agreed to help me because she knew that that my choice of leaving her had been the wrong thing to do, and now that I still have the chance to correct my mistakes, I must not give up.”

“I  _hate_  you!” Loki spits, loud and hard against the silence of the room. He turns away, refusing to meet his father’s eye. “For years, dad. For  _years _.__ ”

When his father touches his wrist, Loki is already too tired to even bother pulling his hand away. He sinks into the sheets on his bed, riding out the silent sobs that rack through his body. For a long time, Odin holds him, and for a long time, Loki allows it to happen.

Frigga and Thor arrive hours later with bowls of the food cooked at home. Thor ruffles Loki’s hair when he arrives, eyes sharp on Loki's face as if to ask  _are you alright_ , to which Loki responds with a gentle nod.

The darkness sets into the night. Dinner is tense with the atmosphere hanging heavily in the air, but it’s the first time Loki has ever felt untroubled in a while.

****…** **

Coach Coulson is undeniably small next to the towering players on the grass, but when he speaks to the group, the echo of his voice is enough to send Thor’s pulse into an erratic rhythm.

“There are less than three weeks until we go against Alabama. And now while some of you might think that three weeks is still a long way ahead of us, you gotta know that we will not be setting countdowns this time.”

The whole team exchanges considering glances at each other, some of them sporting grins that continue to split wider as they hang on Coulson’s every word.

“Forget about having home court advantage,” their coach rasps, his words heavy in the air and enough to send a sense of authority among the guys from his presence alone. “Every single day, we’ll hit the fields as if there are only twenty seconds left in the fourth quarter, and that the people up in those bleachers are screaming at us to go fuck ourselves and return to Georgia with a sagging championship streak.”

Thor does just that. He forgets the vision of seeing blue and white among the crowd, and reimagines the sight of the stadium filled with Alabama’s blaring boos of contempt as Thor’s team struggles to aim for the final touchdown. The vision vanishes. Adrenaline courses through his veins.

“In the last three years, the GSU Panthers are held in the highest regard for your remarkable prowess on the field. Semi-finals is only one step ahead towards our possible fourth championship, and for the most of the team, it’ll probably be a short touching callback to our win last year. But for  _some_  of you,” Coulson’s eyes scan the group before they meet Thor’s gaze, “this game could be the last gold on the road.”

A whistle goes off. The guys huddled around Coulson erupt into a hysteric fit of booming laughter in both anticipation and zeal. Fandral and Volstagg are definitely the loudest and the most  _expressive_  ones in the group, and Thor finds himself joining the short celebration of a fourth potential championship before the shrill of Coulson’s whistle forces the guys to return to their individual routines on the field.

“Back to your stations, each one of you! That’s right, I need to see some  _serious_  legwork going on. Keep it up!”

Thor remains plastered to the ground, hyper-aware of Coulson’s presence next to him. He shifts his weight on the grass, watching as his coach shakes his head fondly at the other guys before turning to Thor.

“So you're back for good now?”

Thor hangs his head low, sheepish. “Yeah,” he chuckles lightly. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

“Well, thank heavens, then.” Coulson begins retreating to the benches. Thor follows along. “For the first time in my life, I really doubted my memory, 'cause I certainly don’t remember holding up random unauthorized holidays for the guys in the team.”

“Sorry coach,” Thor sighs loudly. “There were some… things that I just couldn’t ignore. With my dad, and my brother, and—”

“No more excuses, Odinson,” Coulson starts and stops in his tracks. He turns to face Thor will a reassuring smile. “Your father and I spoke well.”

Thor manages a meek nod, silently grateful for his coach’s kindly approach. They continue to stroll towards the benches where an ice chest lies unopened.

When they get there, however, Thor couldn’t help but return his gratefulness to the man.

“Coach… thank you,” he says, catching Coulson send him a subtle smile. “That short message you had for us out there…” Thor chuckles, shaking his head fondly. “Sometimes I forget I’m only two games away from graduating.”

Coulson pops a water bottle open, nodding at Thor. “It must be a novelty, then? Playing… throwing yourself out there in the field.”

“It is.” Thor hums in agreement, blinks for a second and sees flashes of his first year in Georgia State University to play for the Panthers. His chest grows warm from the nostalgia. “It’s so much more.”

“I know… I'm sure your brother knows that too.”

Thor snaps his head at those words. The look that Coulson carries on his face is unreadable.

“The fact that he’s on that bed doesn’t change the fact that he looks up to you.” He tosses a bottle which Thor catches in reflex. “Don’t let him down.”

Coach Coulson saunters off without another word. Thor is only left alone for a moment to stare at the bottle in his hands before another figure joins him in his silence.

“Had a word with Coulson over there?”

“Yeah,” Thor chuckles, allowing Fandral’s to arm fall over his shoulders as they sit on the bench. “My sorry ass is spared.”

Fandral laughs, patting Thor’s back. “I knew you’d come around.”

****…** **

“Hey.” The door clicks shut after a second.

Loki doesn’t look up, already used to the increasing number of visitors he’s gotten since the week before Thanksgiving. With only more than two weeks before finals, he can’t risk tearing his gaze away from the page.

A bark of amused laughter. Loki does look up this time, surprised to see Thor. He lowers his book for a moment of inspection. “Aren’t you supposed to be training?”

“Yeah, well.” Thor rounds the bed and takes the couch next to the window. “Coach recently confessed that I’m his favorite player in the team and decided to dismiss me from training far earlier today.”

Loki snorts, highly unimpressed. “You consider yourself lucky, then? Basking in the praise from people, gladly skipping classes and lounging in my private ward for purposes I would  _hate_ to entertain?”

Thor grins, comfortably nestling his head against the cushion. “You speak the truth, O wise one.”

While his brother takes his time relaxing into the couch, Loki returns to the pages, hiding his mirroring grin behind the book. “Why are you here, Thor?”

“Other than the fact that Coulson actually shooed me away from training this afternoon, I kind of wanted to indulge your irritation as you strictly prepare for finals.”

“By spending the next couple of minutes in this room with absolutely nothing to do? Highly uncharacteristic of you, brother.”

“It’s called change, Lo. Shifting behaviors, sudden impulses that might as well be indulged for the better.” Thor begins making wild expressive gestures in the air to emphasize his point. “How long until mom arrives, anyway?”

Loki checks the wall clock. “There are still two hours before her break.”

“Wonderful.” Thor sighs obnoxiously as he settles more comfortably on the couch. “I still have enough time for a nap before I wake up from the sounds of you being pampered all over with mom’s loving grace.”

Despite the playful claim being true, Loki forces his gaze away from the book to shoot Thor an annoyed look, but as his eyes fall over his brother’s slumped form over the couch, he is oddly reminded of the words once said to him by another visitor. 

_Your brother is obviously struggling just as you are _.__

Three-fourths of Thor’s face is in line with his vision, so Loki is easily able to take note of the circles under Thor’s eyes, the dullness of his skin far too prominent to be concealed by an easy reassuring smile. The stubble across his chin is thicker and untended, settling as a brief reminder of how Thor prefers letting his beard grow out when he just couldn’t be bothered to shave.

Loki doesn’t exactly keep track of his brother’s whereabouts outside the hospital, but one thing he does know just from looking at Thor’s rather pathetic state, is that he knows what Thor looks like when he’s spiraling down. He knows his brother enough to recognize the familiar way Thor grows excessively bubbly with jabs and banter in an attempt to conceal his own sullen spirit. 

Loki looks back, hit with the long overdue realization that Thor has been acting far too…  _upbeat_  this afternoon.

_Sort this out with your brother, whatever it is you need to sort out._

_Speak about your feelings._

Loki shakes himself from the trance, returns his focus on the book. There’s definitely not a lot of time left to suck up the rest of the chapters he still hasn’t covered in AP History. For a moment, he contemplates calling Sif just to vocally exchange ideas and insights with his own very equal in the field, but realizes a minute too late that Sif is still probably hung up on Organic Chemistry at this hour of the day and decides against ringing her.

An hour passes. Thor has successfully filled the silence in the room with his snoring and Loki is both too eager to finish the last few paragraphs to bother waking his brother up, and too irritated to even bother dealing with another moment of telling his brother to fucking keep it down.

Sometime around the last couple of chapters, Loki gets an urge to empty his bladder. He drops the book and swings his feet over the edge of the bed, but when he tries to stand, the joints in his knees grow stiff. The wheelchair has been confiscated by Sigyn at Dr. Heimdall’s orders and is still nowhere to be found so he can't use that too. What the fuck does he do now?

“Oh god.” He grips the IV stand to support his weight but his it’s his thighs that give out this time. “You gotta be shitting me.”

Loki throws a considering look over his brother. Thor looks perfectly content and blissful as he sleeps, which is exactly why Loki hurls a pillow into his face.

“Thor.”

Another pillow flies.

“Thor, wake  _up _.__ ”

His brother stirs on the bed, slightly jumping as he sits up. Thor stares at him with all the confusion on his face. “What’s going on?”

“I need to pee.” Loki gestures below. “My legs are not cooperating. Can you—?”

Worry flashes across Thor’s features for a millisecond before he rises from the couch and rushes to Loki’s side. “Yeah, alright. Hold on.”

An arm slides around Loki’s waist, guiding him on his feet. Loki ignores the way his cheeks heat up from the embarrassment of being manhandled to do something as simple and natural as  _pissing_ , but when he checks his brother's face for any ridicule, Thor gives off no sign that he finds the situation in any way hilarious.

Instead, his brother takes his time with all the patience he’s showing, grabbing Loki’s arm to throw it over his own shoulders as he strolls them both towards the bathroom in slow, easy steps.

Even as they reach the door, Thor’s arm doesn’t leave him. “Can you handle yourself from here? The toilet’s far from the nearest wall. You gotta lean on something otherwise you might slip." 

At those words, Loki stops. He stops breathing and just  _stares_ , studying the evident worry etched across Thor’s face and gasps silently at the memory that stabs his head. He blocks out the sounds from the rest of world, listens as Thor speaks because it’s all coming back to him now.

The night in the ocean. Cutting through the waves despite the forceful pull of the water beneath the surface. The silent countdown of the precious seconds inside Loki's head before he sinks lower, and lower and—

Then Thor’s voice floats into his ears despite the water blocking his senses, and it’s the very same voice that he uses as he speaks to Loki now. Thor's face when he finally manages to bring Loki back to the sand is the very same face that he wears as he glances back and forth between the toilet and the obvious staggering of Loki’s steps.

The memory flashes blindingly bright and Loki quivers as he stands, with Thor quickly securing another hand around Loki’s elbow to stop him from falling.

“Lo, you alright? Do you need me to help you stand?”

Loki's eyes blink once more.

_Thor cares about you as much as you care about him._

“No,” he chokes out, pulling away from Thor. “It’s… That wouldn’t be necessary. The IV stand should be enough.”

Thor visibly hesitates, but removes his hands from Loki’s arms nonetheless. He backs away, pulls the knob as he goes. “Reach for the sink if you lose your balance. I’ll stay here in case you need anything.”

Then the door falls into place.

Loki goes through his business with loud, erratic heartbeats. The memory doesn’t escape his head, and Professor Selvig’s words don’t fade until a little while later when Loki returns to the bed and forgets all traces of those thoughts by replacing them with formulated equations.

Since the encounter, Loki doesn’t think about Thor. He thinks about finals, thinks about Frigga, thinks about his dad and his sister who’s still out there in the world doing god knows what, but he doesn’t think about Thor.

He can’t. Not yet. Because the more he remembers the worry across Thor’s face, the more he fears knowing about the  _reason_  for that worry.

****…** **

Thor starts to notice some… changes.

Whenever he visits the hospital, he’d normally expect to see Loki plastered on the bed with all the shit-ton of books he has to read. Sometimes, those hours of visiting would be spent watching his brother type emails to his professors on his laptop while successfully ignoring Thor and his rather obvious presence. But in truth, Thor doesn’t mind. He’s glad that Loki is still as focused as he’d usually be if he were in class, and now that he’s stuck on the bed but still pretty much functioning, Thor thinks there’s not much to worry about.

Until Loki hops off his bed and wheels himself into the bathroom to pee for the third time that hour.

“Lo,” Thor starts, unable to silence his worry. “You haven’t even been drinking that much water. Why are you peeing a lot?”

“Side-effects,” Loki replies, flushing the toilet and closing the door behind him. His eyes look hollower, but Thor thinks it’s only because his brother often overworks himself. “Sigyn warned me about the new drugs beforehand.”

“Is it normal then?”

The look Loki gives shoots him is plainly of exhaustion. “I’m fine, Thor,” he says, and Thor, the fool he is, believes him. 

A few days pass. Thor visits again and finds out that not only that Loki’s trips to the bathroom have now grown more frequent, but his brother has also been burdened with stiffer joints in his knees. Loki relies on the wheelchair more than anything, and Thor watches him with subtle concern, growing cautious to limit his worried looks should Loki notice them at all and call him out. Thor is quickly reminded of Odin’s words in the car.

_Your brother hasn’t always opened his arms to you, has he?_

_He has never wanted to be coddled._

_Because of that desire to seem unaffected by his condition, he began refusing affection from his family._

As he stares at his brother now, Thor finds himself believing every word his father had said. He believes them because he can  _see_  just how true they are.

Thor is splashing water into his face in the bathroom when he hears the vague sound of Loki yelling outside.

“—phone’s going off!”

Thor hastily kills the faucet to hear the words better. “What?”

“Your phone, Thor!” The door rattles in its frame, hit by what Thor could only guess as the trajectory of a flying pillow. “Answer the fucking  _phone_!”

“ _Jesus_ , I’m coming.” Thor exits the bathroom and sees Loki sprawled in his bed with a scowl on his face. The laptop is placed above his thighs, and judging by the amount of notebooks next to the sheets, Loki is probably currently taking up Calculus with Professor Selvig himself at this hour.

Thor grabs his phone from the couch. The sigh Loki releases sounds impatient. “Do it outside, for god’s sake. Can’t you see I’m trying to—”

On his way out, Thor couldn’t help but chuckle at his brother’s snappy attitude. He closes the door behind him, effectively drowning out the rest of Loki’s sentence.

Thor presses the phone into his ear and smiles. It’s Frigga.

“I heard some yelling,” is the first thing she says. “You’re not arguing with your brother and Loki's not screaming, is he?”

“We’re not killing each other yet, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he chuckles before clearing his throat. “We’re fine, mom. Loki’s just in a pissy mood because of class. Is everything alright?”

A pause. Then a long sigh. Thor counts the seconds before Frigga’s voice floats into the speakers to speak again. “I fear your brother has grown weaker.”

“What do you mean?”

“He refused to move when I visited yesterday,” Frigga explains. “You know, your father told me about Loki’s attacks. He’s been visiting your brother this week and has tried getting a word out of Loki, but the only thing your father observed is that Loki  _is_  coping. Dr. Heimdall hasn’t sent a word about those episodes reoccurring as of late, but well. What do we know? Your brother has always been capably skillful in hiding secrets.”

“He’s certainly not having those attacks again.” Thor peers behind himself to double-check if the door to Loki’s room is indeed still shut. “I tried asking his nurse about his improvement, but all she tells me is that the drugs are working fine, and that he probably won’t get those attacks any sooner.”

“That’s a relief.” There’s a soft sigh. “But it’s you who visits often these days, my son. How is he when your father and I aren’t around?”

“Oh, he’s terribly hung up on class. Probably missing out on a lot, but he can manage. And we’re talking, so it’s alright.” He pauses, wondering if he’s giving her the whole truth. “Yeah, he can’t walk yet, and he runs a lot of trips to the bathroom as a side-effect from the drugs, but we can’t worry now, mom. We gotta wait for his doctor to say something.”

It’s a while before Frigga responds, but when she finally does, she sounds reluctant. “Alright, dear. Call me when you need anything.”

“Bye, mom. Take care.”

Thor lowers his phone, sighing at the screen. When he reenters the room, Loki appears only a second away from completely dozing off.

“Loki, your laptop’s gonna fall from the bed.” Thor rushes forward to catch the whole thing before it slips. He pulls away, observing the state his brother is in and memorizing every single detail. Notebooks completely scattered, dry ink on the sheets, and Loki himself barely managing to sit as he blinks awake and leans against the headboard. “ _Christ_. You gotta take a break, Lo. You’re wearing yourself out.”

Thor motions to remove the notebooks from the bed and transfer them to the couch away from his brother when Loki catches his wrist says, “No, don't." The hand around Thor's wrist tightens. "Bring them back. I need to—”

“You need to what? Overwork yourself?” Thor takes the notebooks anyway. “A day without studying won’t kill you, Loki. I’m pretty sure your professors aren’t stupid enough to think you could handle this much work in a single day.”

“I suppose it's only fair to say that you’re not the one missing out on classes, so you obviously don’t get a say in this.”

“Oh, for crying out loud, Lo,” Thor sighs, moving to the couch. “Sleep for the rest of the day and I swear I’ll shove all of these books in your bed tomorrow.”  

Something small and solid jabs hits him hard against his shoulder blades. Thor stops in his tracks, looking down to see the fallen remote for the air-conditioner on lying on the ground.

“Give them back, Thor.”

Thor turns around to a very displeased Loki. He can’t stop his own guts from twisting at the sight. Loki’s eyes are silently pleading, both of his hands planted over his thighs to support his weight as he leans forward, and Thor aches at what he sees, because despite his own denial over Frigga’s claims of Loki growing weaker, Thor definitely sees it now, too.

Loki  _is_  growing weaker, and if the current state of his brother now is not enough evidence, then Thor doesn’t know what is.

“How are you gonna make this work, Lo?" he presses. "You pursuing your own studies isn’t supposed to include struggling with all these things on your bed and leaving you with little to no time for a break.” Thor runs a hand through his hair, utterly frustrated. “For fuck’s sake, you’re  _sick_  Loki.” 

Thor knows that those words hit their mark when Loki  _glowers_  at him.

“Well apologies, Thor, because I could really care less.” Loki’s hands grip at the sheets. “I’m putting myself out there to catch up with my classes because at least in some way, I could still pretend to live normally despite my—”

Thor trails off when he hears those words, clasps his eyes shut and remembers his father’s face in the car. 

_As much as in pains me to admit this, your brother is… struggling._

He forces his eyes open, feeling desperate hands tear his rib-cage apart when Thor thinks about the words he wishes he could tell his brother without hurting him:  _We don’t know anything about tomorrow, Loki, please. I need you to take care of yourself for me._

Thor thinks the world has stopped spinning on its axis when Loki abruptly cuts himself off. He watches as tears well up in Loki’s eyes, and the look on Loki's face is enough to tell Thor that he’s heard those unspoken words anyway.

“I fucking _hate_  you, Thor!” Loki lashes out, no longer holding back. “I hate you because you play football every afternoon and you spend your days in crowded halls and you laugh because you still have a reason to! I hate you because you’re  _supposed_  to be my brother and you’re supposed to be optimistic that I’d still get to live because I’ve always shown you that I  _can_!”

Thor quickly looks away, blinking rapidly. The beating inside his chest has grown too erratic that he begins to wonder whether this is how it feels suffer like his brother.

Loki’s ears have grown red from his unmistakable anger. “How much thicker should your skull grow before the thought ever  _reaches_  you?” He hurls another pillow at Thor, sighing loudly when he can’t seem to find anything harder then a pillow. Thor stands there unfazed, taking it all in, accepting his brother’s displayed frustration. “I’m not a fucking child for you to coddle when I’m merely stuck to a bed, so how  _dare_  you underestimate me, Thor. You don’t have the closest idea to how it feels to hold my chin up for everyone in this damned place just because they refuse to believe that I’m not going to fucking _die_!”

As if a switch has been flicked, the trance breaks. Thor rushes to Loki and encases his brother with arms as unbreakable as steel. He presses Loki’s weight against his own, does nothing but squeeze him tighter when Loki begins thrashing him off and punching Thor's chest as an attempt to pull away.

But Thor only holds him, buries his head into the intoxicating scent of Loki’s shampoo and wishes he has all the strength to remove his brother's pain.

“I still want to live, Thor,” Loki cries into his neck, the softness of his voice enough to set Thor’s heart into flames, “but I don’t think you believe that I will.”

To prove Loki’s point wrong, Thor whispers promises and apologies into his hair. Those words carry the weight of his own pain, and when Loki hears them, he stops fighting back, and eventually loses all his strength from thrashing around that he has no other choice but to recoil into the safety of his brother’s arms.

"I believe you," Thor whispers, his words intended for his brother and his brother alone. "I  _swear_  on my life, I believe you."

****…** **

There is now a boundless void in his chest where his heart used to lie. Every tear that trails down his cheeks is another lost ounce of the pain he’s been bottling up for so long. And as they fall, the pain comes with his strength, with his own heart, and Loki is left with nothing but the healing pieces of his soul.

Thor doesn’t leave until Loki practically asks him to. The air grows heavier around them, Loki's own throat tightening to prevent the words from ever spilling out but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care. He wallows in the ghost of Thor’s arms and bids his brother a silent goodbye when he finally tells Thor to leave.

“You’ve been crying, my love,” Frigga whispers when she visits that day, her voice broken but echoing with all the adoration he could hear. Loki doesn’t say anything to prove her suspicion, but he lets Frigga hold him close that afternoon and thinks it’s enough.

Later that night, a priest visits. Loki is almost insulted at the optimism from the man’s sullen face, as if he could actually  _heal_ souls. The priest offers a prayer, touches Loki’s hand and places a small figurine of Saint Jude by the nightstand before leaving.

Loki doesn’t study for the rest of the night. Instead, he lies awake, watching the figurine of the saint next to the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this fic is inspired by St. Jude the Patron of Hopeless Causes because it really relates to Loki's condition.
> 
> If I offended anyone with Loki's views of the priest, apologies. I assure you, the characters here are very much open-minded. It's just that Loki's frustration overpowered him at the end of the day.
> 
> Also, the spotlight will shine on Odin much more in the next chapter.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens when exhaustion kicks in?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's cool off, shall we? Just a few chapters away before we wrap this up!
> 
> Thank you for all the support! Love you guys 3000! 
> 
> Also, I'm planning to provide a physical bounded copy of this work (a book? hmm) and I was hoping to pay tribute to such amazing readers. I would print your comments and feedback out and include them in the pages. I think it would be lovely to carry this experience around with me all the time. Because when I say that you guys bring me joy, you guys _really_ bring me legit joy.
> 
> (im such a sentimental person, apologies)

 

Odin visits him two days later.

Loki’s eyes are glued to the window that barely offers a fair view of the trees parallel to the hospital building. Snow had began to fall sometime around the past few days and the sight of the climate shifting into one of its rather favored forms has Loki wishing upon the chance to return outdoors where he's free from the walls of this ward, growing familiar with the frostbite from the chill that never fails to endear him instead. An outstretched arm to seize the free-falling flakes, the strands of his now-longer hair pelted with the weather’s morning dew.

His silence is interrupted by a quiet knock. Loki throws a quick glance from the corner of his eye but doesn't say anything, still very much reluctant to pull away from the sight of white painting the canopies of the trees.

Odin appears in the doorway, one hand clutching a small paper bag, the other reaching behind himself the push the door back in place. He invites himself into the room in the same second Loki composes himself to prevent appearing too tense. Apparently, Loki still hasn’t gotten around the fact that Odin had offered some sort of apology just a week ago, and that underneath the years of negligence from his dear father is the history of his sister’s unfortunate childhood.

The days that followed Thanksgiving hadn’t been rough, but they hadn’t been easy either. Loki is still stuck on the rather vast spectrum between denial and acceptance and he still doesn't know when to and  _how_  he can move forward.

“Any classes today, son?” Odin asks, approaching the bed. "Seems like the pressure of finals has gotten to you."

Loki resigns to shaking his head, somehow against the idea of coming up with a bitter jibe of his own. Surprisingly enough, he’s not in the mood to play that game today.

“Thor said I should take a break from class,” he answers. “He obviously doesn’t understand how much I’m missing out on, but I figured I could listen to his stupid advice for once.” He pointedly gestures towards Odin's hands. “What’s in the bag?

Odin slips into the chair, hauling the paper bag onto his lap.

“I remember how you hogged books from the fiction section in the bookstore when you were younger,” he begins. “Your mother would always remind me to get you the books you often asked for. But with the number of your collection gradually increasing, I began to wonder how Frigga and your brother even managed to keep up with the reading. Then it dawned on me that you never asked anyone to read to you,  that every ounce of knowledge you’ve possessed as you child, you managed to learn all by yourself.”

Then his father reaches into the bag, fishes out two  _Michael Wood_  publications, one of which Loki straight away recognizes as  _Conquistadors_ , and the other one being a more recently released volume of  _Outside Looking In_.

Loki stares down at the copies, wondering whether his father actually expects him to willingly accept the gifts without so much as a question as to  _why_  Odin has even bought them in the first place.

“One of these is non-fiction,” Loki points out, stating the obvious. He reaches for the outdated publication and flips to the table of contents. “Diplomatic relations, state succession in respect to property, archives, and debts… This is a book of  _treaties_ , dad. Why opt for law?”

Odin gives him a considering look. “I figured with your chosen major… perhaps you might be interested in pursuing the field.”

Loki quickly drops the book. “Just because I took up Political Science doesn’t mean I want to go into law school.”

“Which kind of jobs appeal to you, then? Your mother and I often think about the decisions you’ll eventually have to make once you’re finished with college. Whatever it is you choose to pursue in the end, we agreed to work together and provide you with the support you need.”

Loki huffs and looks away, willing himself not to say anything. His father is  _opening_  up to him, and if Loki hasn’t gotten the chance to see the first of it before, then he’s certainly not going to miss out on anything now.

"What about Thor, dad? Has he ever told you about his plans? Aiming for a degree in International Business when mom would probably rather see him as a committed accountant?"

"Your mother has dreams for the both of you, but I have encouraged your brother to study whatever it is that he pleases."

“And what does Hela do?” Loki finds himself asking. He doesn’t exactly know why he’s pressing Odin for details, but expanding his knowledge of the truth of his father’s past isn’t going to hurt. "I've heard she's very successful."

If the sigh Odin releases is anything to go by, Loki would say his father didn't exactly expect the inquisitiveness.

“She’s a proprietor from Norway. Tactical enough to have escaped the poor economy in her hometown, clever enough to have secured herself a welcome spot in Washington.” Odin clears his throat. “I realized what a success she’s made out of herself. Despite her natural weakness, she grew out of her shell. Proved to the world that she’s strong enough for her ambition.”

“And how did she welcome you?” Loki raises a brow. “I’m pretty certain that the average person’s reaction to running into the person that had abandoned them years back is to  _not_  welcome them at all. I suppose your exchange went entirely differently when you narrowed down your purpose of visiting her and said that you needed money.”

He notices the way Odin shifts on his seat.

“Though your treatment has proved effective, it isn’t so simple to maintain, my boy. Dr. Heimdall said as much, as my friend and as your own physician.” Odin leans forward, and at the sight of his father advancing, Loki looks away. “I had no other choice but to seek your sister. Indeed, she had been very difficult to persuade, but with your mother’s insistence and my own desperation to ask for whatever aid may be offered, she agreed to help out.”

“You didn’t answer my question, dad.”

Odin pauses. “I suppose she  _was_  still displeased—”

Loki snaps his head up and holds his father’s gaze, defiant. “Did she not admit her own sorrows? Take the chance to speak her grudges to your own face and claim just how much your ego damaged her when you left her as a child?" 

_Go ahead, spit it out. Let’s have the words out in the air._

“Digesting the fact that I have a sister, that much I can handle. But finding out from your precious anecdotes that she, too, had been abandoned in the span of her own suffering as I have…” Loki shakes his head, disbelieving. “How do you think that makes me feel, dad?”

Odin at least has the decency to lower his gaze at every syllable Loki speaks. Whether it is contemplation in that one eye or simply acceptance over the truth of those words, Loki doesn’t know, but he’s willing to bet that Odin is definitely thinking about it.

But when his father speaks, they’re not the words Loki is expecting to hear.

“On that night by the ocean, I never expected to see Thor running towards us in the sand with a handful of your still unconscious form.” A frown ghosts over Odin’s face. “Your mother couldn’t stop crying, her hands quickly checked your pulse, hugging your body close to her chest. And your brother…” he looks down. “Truth to be told, I’ve never seen your brother more frightened that he was during that night. He stuck by your side, refused to let go of your hand." 

_Don’t even think about it. Close your fucking eyes, Odinson, don’t give in—_

“ _Loki?_ ” A sharp jerk. “ _Lo, are you waking up?_ ”

Warm trails of… tears. His hands crawl to his collarbones where he’s last felt those tears against his neck but all he finds is the thin layer of his shirt drenched in undeniably cold, cold water, plastered to his skin that if he so much as peels the fabric off, the rush of air that sweeps across his arms is enough to freeze him all over again.

“ _Loki…please_.”

Despite the darkness blinding him all while he’s unable to flicker his eyes open, he still manages to make out the rest of his surroundings. There are hands caressing his cheeks and gripping his shoulders, one of them secured around the nape of his neck and the other one clutching his hand with their own as they speak closely to his face.

“ _I’m sorry, Loki…_ ” Sniffles. An audible in-take of breath. “ _Wake up for me,_   _please_.” 

 _Thor_ ,Loki remembers screaming. Cutting through the raging waves with all his strength and desperation to swim long and far enough that his older brother, who's still off-shore, might just be able to notice his distress and _—_

Loki retches and jerks violently, sitting up as he begins coughing into the small space of what seems to be… a moving vehicle. An ambulance, its sirens wailing loud in clear against the echo of the waves in his head. Two small arms snake around his shoulders, and before he could process what’s happening, Loki finds himself being crushed into the wetness of his brother’s neck, his own body trembling uncontrollably as he falls into rhythm with his brother's sobs.

“I’m sorry,” Thor whispers, his voice small and tentative but carrying fear all the same. “I was so scared when I couldn’t see you in the water.”

 _I was scared too _,__  Loki wants to say, but his throat has turned coarse from the screaming, and though the slickness of his shirt reminds him fairly of the dread when he sank into the ocean’s depths, Thor’s arms are warm enough around his shoulders that Loki forgets about the waves for the rest of the ride. 

_Snap out of it, Odinson. Your father is right in front of you. Pathetic._

But he doesn’t snap out of it. Loki blinks the image away from his eyes to focus on his father now, but the ghost of Thor’s arms and the fear in his voice are still very much apparent that Loki wonders when he’s ever going to set himself free from the horror of the accident.

If Odin can see how much his words have hit Loki, he doesn’t do anything to point it out.

“The moment the doctor told us what she found in your heart, I knew exactly how much I began to fear for you,” he continues. “Your mother has always been brave. And your brother, braver. None of this has ever been easy for them, but they both managed to optimistic for you.”

“And what about you, dad?” Loki presses, just to hear the answer himself. “Where were you when I fell down the bleachers at school? When it was only Thor left to pass by my classroom every single period? When mom was the one making I sure I never forgot my pills? What did you  _ever_  do for me?”

By this time Loki, no longer gives a shit if he’s openly tearing up in front of his father.

He’s done with feigning indifference when he  _does_ care very fucking much. He’s tired of being all-smiles in front of every single person that falls in line with his vision just so they wouldn’t so much as see how he clumsily slips into his vulnerable mask when he thinks no one is watching. He’s so fucking tired of trying to appear strong for everyone when his own father isn't even strong enough show him if he ever  _cared_.

“You admitted to having feared what I had to go through.” Loki blinks up slowly at Odin, wishing he had all the strength in him the speak the truth buried in his heart. “You ran away every chance you got because you couldn’t stand seeing your past haunt you again right in front of your own eyes. But have you ever thought about what I felt, dad? I was the one suffering from your unfortunate past, but you were never even there to try to  _fight_  it yourself.”

“Oh, my boy.” Odin reaches out to lay a hand around Loki's wrist, but this time… this time Loki doesn’t flinch away. “I’ve caused you so much pain for so many years because of my cowardice. Forgive me, my son. I'm truly sorry.”

Loki leans his complete weight against the wall behind the bed, averting his gaze away from the one person he’s always wanted to seek comfort from but never got the chance to because both of them had their own fears to battle against.

The snow continues to cascade over the leafless branches outside and Loki aches to experience how it must be to fall with someone out there to catch you no matter how many times you do.

Sobs rack through his chest in unequal beats. If he gets an attack right now right then, well damn it all to hell, he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about going through another agonizing round of ripping his chest open and catching his breath because the only thing he fucking cares about now is Odin lingering right behind him with his hand on Loki’s wrist, prepared to step in and catch him if Loki ever grows weak again.

“You are a child of my own, and if anything happens to you, I would never forgive myself.” Odin approaches him and pulls Loki’s head into his chest. “I’ve already failed your sister before. I hope I would never have to repeat the same mistake to you, should you give me the chance to start over." 

_One flake, two flakes, three and four, still and silent free-falling snow._

Loki's heart hammers loudly and twists inside his rib-cage. The sight of the snow pelting over the fogged-up windows manages to calm him down enough that he reaches behind him and curls a cold tentative hand around Odin’s arm. Clinging, anchoring him down, squeezing his father's arm to say, _yes, you still have a chance._  In turn, Loki feels Odin press him closer to his chest.

_When a blizzard hits, cling to your walls, cry with your voice, let them catch you when you fall._

**_**_…_ ** _ **

“And you’ve never really brought anyone here before?”

“Apart from the jerks who think they could get away with plagiarizing my History thesis, no. I haven’t taken anyone here for a voluntary match before.”

Thor is still very much gaping at the spaciousness of the place. Earlier, Sif had caught him along the lecture halls and wondered if Thor would be interested enough to tag along with her and visit the local boxing gym where she’s working part-time. And because Thor hasn’t really seen any of those professional boxing training up close, here he is, taking in the sight of the boxing ring that lies unused underneath the dim florescent lights. “You could basically start owning this place.”

The thing is, Thor is actually looking forward to a couple of hours in the gym. With the whirlwind of recent events knocking him off his feet more often than not, he’s beginning to grow weary from almost anything he does.

Three hours into football training  _does_  let him blow some steam off, but any longer beyond that would successfully tire every fibre of his body out. Lounging in his room would be a great option too, if only he could actually savor the peace and quiet and use the privacy to prevent himself from being brain fried from finals, but he’s not exactly that…  _resilient_.

So throwing rounds and rounds of punches with a person who would actually find it a  _delight_  to hit him back, which would of course be for educational purposes...? Thor certainly doesn't have any reason to turn the offer down.

Sif shrugs from where she’s retrieving two pairs of boxing gloves and pads. "I chose not to. The gym's great for my own routines, yes, but I’m not a regular instructor.” She saunters towards Thor with a hand on her hip and throws him the first pair of gloves. “Don’t hit too hard with those. That’s not how it works. Just try to keep up with Hogun while he runs you through the drills. He doesn't do much other than box, but that’s pretty much why I tasked him to deal with you.”

“What?” Thor calls after her when Sif leaves him and begins walking towards the section lined up with hanging punching bags. “I thought you'd be the one I'll be training with today.”

“Real funny, Odinson.” She whirls around and sends him a grin. “But you’re not that ready for me yet.”

As if on cue, another man enters the room. He’s shorter than Thor, his jet black strands long enough that he’s tied them in a bun behind his head. And mix-raced, too. Thor squints, scans the body-language of the guy and tries to get a read on his face. And yeah, Thor concludes, new guy's pretty much reserved in nature.

Thor stretches out a hand anyway just so he wouldn’t have to appear rude. He’s  _still_ sort of bummed that Sif won't be the one on the receiving end of his punches, but things happen here and there.

“Hey, I’m Thor. Sif’s friend from college.”

“Hogun.” He grips Thor’s hand, pulls away, and that’s it.

With Sif the only person lingering in the background as she fixes and arranges several gym equipment, Thor and Hogun hop onto the boxing ring with the gloves and pads provided. Thor pulls his hair up behind his head while he waits. The air between them is tense, alright, but what the hell, this other guy just seems to be in his zone. Not a single word escapes from his mouth, and Thor is still in a grey area to guess whether that’s a good thing or not.

And then Hogun speaks.

“Have you boxed before?”

“Uh.” Thor maneuvers around and shifts his weight. “I wouldn’t say I know  _how_  to box, but I’ve had my fair share of brawls back in the day.”

“Alright.” Hogun nods stiffly. “We’ll start with the bags.”

 _But,_  Thor wants to groan inwardly. He doesn’t need any bags. He even took down that arrogant son of a bitch Bjorn in one fueled swing across that guy’s jaw. But as Thor studies Hogun’s unchanging grim expression on his face, he figures that there’s not much point in arguing.

Hogun hangs an oversized punching bag over the hook on the ceiling and allows it to fall in the center of the ring mid-air. This particular one is filled with sand and special filling, as Hogun tells him. Heavy duty indeed. Thor approaches the bag, takes the stance with his right foot forward, elbows down and hands up, positions himself behind his gloves and straight out  _punches_  the bag. When the bag  _budges_ , Thor breaks into a triumphant grin.

“Weak,” Hogun blurts out.

“I’m sorry?” Thor turns to him, partly offended. Because excuse  _you _,__  new grim guy, everyone in this goddamn room knows that the bag moved from its stationary position when Thor finally threw his punch.

“You play football, you’re strong. But what you’re showing me now is weak because you’re thinking too much.” Hogun elaborates, his demeanor still unchanging, and Thor is  _definitely_ not embarrassing himself. Hogun reaches out and grips both of Thor’s wrists together, squeezing tight. “Channel your emotions through harder punches. Let those emotions act for you, and let the bag endure the intensity of what you feel."

Emotions, huh? Well fuck, where does Thor fucking start. He exhales loudly, and serves a quick but forceful uppercut towards the punching bag.

It flies off… a bit.

“Not bad,” Hogun praises. Then in a different tone, “Is that all you’ve got?”

So while this guy’s not shifting his face or whatever, he resigns to provoking people with the stuff he says? Let’s have his way, then.

Thor secures his stance, digs the heel of his left foot into the platform to ground himself in his position. His upper-half body leans forward to aim his momentum directly towards the bag, both of his hands swinging easily back and forth in a series of hooks, jabs, and uppercuts, hitting the goddamn leather of the bag, and hoping it would be enough to knock the thing off from its place.

He starts panting out of exhaustion, skin tickling with the sweat that rolls down his back. A few more punches and fuck, he could really give out any second, but Hogun is there right next to him looking pretty much unfazed from Thor's  _evident_  effort, lingering like a ghost that doesn’t attempt to use his mouth and speak of anything except for his eyes that are screaming  _still_   _weak_.

Thor slows down and catches his breath. He doesn’t dare look at Hogun for approval because he’s definitely not gonna have any of those precious compliments anytime soon, but what do you know. Hogun, the reserved minimal talker, beats him to it.

“A punching bag will not resist you, Thor.” He hauls the punching bag and throws it out of boxing ring. A second later, he’s slipping his own fists into the boxing pads and encourages Thor to straighten-up. “Try hitting my own hands. These will represent the emotional forces around you.”

Despite his reluctance, Thor returns to his stance and trails a wary eye over Hogun. Something has changed on the guy’s face.

“Disappointment.” Hogun lifts his own hands. Thor watches as the guy holds both pads up, eyes flickering with challenge. “Have you ever been disappointed, Thor?”

_I saved you._

That voice hits him, twists its way into his head. Thor ignores the nagging echo and plants his gaze firmly on the pads.

Hogun beckons to Thor as if reading his mind. “Then  _fight_  it.”

Thor throws his right fist into Hogun’s left pad, determined to get the guy stumbling a bit, but the fucking force does nothing to get Hogun move an inch _ _.__

_I pulled you out of the water, cried at your feet when you wouldn’t wake up._

Hogun grins, blatantly unaffected and smug about it. “You are weak, Odinson,” then raises his voice, “you have to fight it!”

He asked for it. Thor grunts and throws a series of inverted jabs, all of them thrown forcefully into the pads Hogun is holding up and nearly falling out of his balance when he realizes that Hogun is shifting on his feet, getting Thor to step backwards all the same to corner him.

_That was before. What about now?_

Shut up, shut up, shut up—

Thor pushes back with his punches, eager to hit hard enough that he may start knocking Hogun into falling backwards.

“Next one is guilt,” Hogun says, danger teasing the edge of his voice. “I know there is something you regret doing in the past.”

_How dare you underestimate me, Thor._

“Shut up,” Thor snaps, frustrated. Hogun doesn’t budge even as Thor drains his strength in a single punch.

“Fight it, Thor,” Hogun encourages, his knees knocking into Thor’s as they clash. “Fight the  _guilt._ ”

_I fucking hate you, Thor!_

His fist collides with Hogun’s collarbone before it drives home into the pad. Hogun stumbles back but doesn’t fall, slips his own hands out of the pads and replaces them with his own pair of boxing gloves.

“And lastly..." Hogun slips the last glove on. “Fear.”

Thor draws in a sharp breath, already catching up with what’s happening. Hogun takes a defensive stance and presses closer into Thor's space, holding his own hands up with his face behind them.

“What do you fear, Thor?” he asks before Thor could ever throw another punch. Hogun draws closer, taunting. “Tell me your  _biggest_  fear.”

_As much as it pains me to admit this, your brother is… struggling._

Thor jabs low into Hogun’s ribs, surprising himself when Hogun does in fact fall out of balance this time and only spends a second to catch his breath before returning to his stance.

“I'll say it one more time.” Thor clenches his jaw, the pit of fire quickly building up inside him and overwhelming his senses. “Shut the  _fuck_  up.”

But Hogun just grins.

“Then  _fight_  it, Odinson."

The dam breaks and Thor loses his control, sloppy and uncoordinated as he is, serving a combination of all the jabs and uppercuts he could muster, successfully gets Hogun to lose his footing and throw his face to the side when Thor’s fist hits too hard.

It’s all a rush for a wrapped round before Thor begins to struggle in between punches, panting every second he gets as Hogun begins jabbing low into his stomach before aiming for the deep soreness in his hips. Thor doubles-over, clasps his eyes close and shuts  _down _.__

His vision fails, his head conjuring flashes of Loki in a wheelchair with his arms shaking and knees weak enough that he can't stand. He remembers Loki, vulnerable as he’d been, burying his head into his books and looking at Thor with the hollowest eyes Thor has never seen before

“Fight, it Odinson.”

Thor returns to his senses, hasty in regaining his strength and returning to a defensive stance. He serves an uppercut and hits Hogun in the jaw, who loses his footing once again.

“I said fight it.”

A deep breath. Refuel your motivation. Set your vision straight.

“What do you really  _fear,_ Thor?”

It's Loki with those tubes, gripping the IV stand whenever he stands in front of the toilet, obviously too embarrassed to allow Thor to steady him on the ground so that he wouldn't fall and slip on the bathroom tiles.

It's Loki, his own brother, stuck on the bed with nothing but his books and his laptop to remind himself of the life he once lived outside the hospital.

It's Loki, on the wheelchair, gazing at the sky whenever Thor brings him into the garden to relieve themselves from their own pressing issues as they breathe in the fresh air.

It's Loki with tears cascading down his cheeks, eyes empty and hollow as he stares at Thor and outright  _pleads._

_I still want to live, Thor._

He digs his foot forward, finds an opening to Hogun’s footing. Thor manages to locate himself another angle for a double uppercut, and does just  _that._

“Fight it, Thor!”

He does, he fucking  _fights_  back. He closes his eyes one more time, recalls the way he held Loki in his arms, how he sobbed into Loki's hair, and how he felt his heart twist at the words Loki had whispered afterwards.

_But I don’t think you believe that I will._

Thor ends it all as he jabs low into Hogun’s stomach, knocking the guy off his feet.

_I swear on my life, I believe you._

Thor falls to the ground as well, heaving out sharp but controlled breaths. What the fuck just happened? As he stares at Hogun’s recovering form, he can’t help but wonder just how much of letting his emotions “act” for himself allowed this to happen.

Thor spaces out, loses himself in his own recovery. When Hogun sits up and reaches for him, it’s with an outstretched hand and a subtle smile on his face.

“He’s proud of you,” he tells Thor, gripping his hand with a respectable amount of strength, “with how much you try.”

Thor finds himself stunned for a split-second.

The moment Hogun leaves him all alone, Sif comes to the boxing ring to check upon Thor.

“So,” she drawls, tossing him a water bottle. “How did it go with Hogun?”

“It was… pretty intense,” Thor chuckles, losing the words for a moment. He uncaps the bottle and downs half of the water. “Guy really knows how to poke into your head.”

“What can I say? He believes that the emotions we hide can be read from our body, not our heads.” Sif shrugs. “It's what makes him a great instructor.”

Exhaustion washes over him like a tidal wave, so when Sif silently heads over to the nearest row of chairs in the room, Thor treads quietly behind her.

Almost an eternity passes when Sif speaks again.

“Do you still visit him?” she asks. He doesn’t understand she’s even asking, but Thor doesn’t question her either.

“Every other day,” he answers with a sigh, leaning his head against the wall. “I can’t skip class anymore, not when finals are on our asses. And football… football’s great and all but it still takes up most of my day. Thankfully Coulson’s been weirdly generous enough to me for some reason. He’s actually granted me two hours off from training every day just so I could drop by the hospital after class.”

“That’s… really kind of him.” Sif actually sounds surprised. Then she sighs. “Look, Thor. I know things are pulling down. And I won't pretend that I know everything, really, but it’s why I wanted you to train with Hogun today. He knows when a person’s struggling with issues, he helps them if they can, and leaves them feeling more… capable and controlled, I guess.”

“Yeah? Did I ever mention how provocative he got at some point?”

“Don’t be stupid. It’s a good thing.” Sif digs an elbow into his side, causing Thor to chuckle lightly. “Sometimes it’s better to acknowledge what you’re feeling… Actually, scratch that, it’s  _always_  better to acknowledge what you’re going through. I don’t need to know what you’re struggling with to understand that you  _are_  struggling, but what I do need is to know that you’re  _managing_  despite all the bullshit. And it’s not just you. Same goes for Loki.”

“I know.” Thor rubs his palm over his face. “It’s just… Fuck, I don’t even know where to start.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything.”

“But I want to,” he insists. “Hell, I really want to, because I can’t tell Loki any of this shit. If I tell our parents, they’ll freak out and they’ll coddle Loki more than he needs, and Loki will throw this back to me and lash out. And it’s all so fucking frustrating, you know? I don’t even know how to start asking questions without alarming the whole family, because everything’s right there in front of my face and I’m not supposed to point it out. But how the fuck can I ignore everything when it keeps following me into the night until I could barely get any sleep at all?”

“Thor,” Sif says, reaching out to touch his arm gently. “What are you even on about?”

Sigh. To hell with pretending. Here it goes.

“Mom thinks he’s getting weaker,” Thor explains. “Dad’s been arranging private meetings with Loki’s doctor. And at first I thought maybe they’re just dwelling too much on keeping tabs on him, but I keep up with my own deeds, visit Loki when I can and what do I see? He can’t walk, can’t go into the bathroom without his wheelchair, can’t even sit on his wheelchair without me assisting him and it’s just… fuck, Sif. I don’t know. The things happening now… they’re scaring me.”

“Is this true?” Sif’s hand around his arm tightens. “Thor…”

“I don’t know.” He sighs again. “In a way, it gets me thinking all night. Keeps bringing me back to the accident on the beach. Makes me realize just how lucky he is.”

The hand around him pulls away. Sif stares at him, visibly listening. The frown on her voice is sickeningly contagious.  

“A lot of those who have the condition don’t even realize they that do, so they live their lives not knowing that they’re risking themselves.” Thor gazes straight ahead, wills himself to control his voice. “If it weren’t for the accident on the beach, we never would have known that he was sick. Loki would not be here, receiving the treatment he’s due to have. And I don’t know what he’s going through, but I’m hoping for the best, you know? I always am.”

“Why can’t you just tell him these things?”

“Because…” he pauses for a while, digs into himself thoroughly. “Because I promised him I’d be strong, that I’d be encouraging him no matter what. I don’t think it would be fair to drop this bomb on him, because no matter how much he manages to fight through, he still gets scared… courageous as he is. Loki’s a damn martyr but he’s never been truly fearless.”

“I… understand.” Sif nods beside him, perhaps digesting everything. When she speaks again, she sounds forlorn. “His birthday’s coming up soon, by the way.”

“Oh shit. yeah.” Right. How could Thor forget? “You’ll visit him, right?”

Sif cracks a small smile despite the worry on her face. “He’d kill me if I didn’t.”

Thor allows himself a second to chuckle. The sound is pretty much dead to his own ears.

“Talk to him, Thor,” Sif advises. Her smile falls for a second. “You need him by your side just as much as he needs you.”

And she's right.

****…**  ** ****

“Do you mind?” Thor holds his hands up to reveal his reviewers. Loki breaks his attention from his own book and sighs when he sees Thor, who’s still lingering by the door frame.

“Just try to keep it down.”

They’re on very, very thin ice, and Thor reminds himself of that fact as he slips into the room quietly and ensuring that he doesn’t cause too much noise on his way.

Because as he gazes at Loki’s form, Thor finds himself taking note of just how much…  _relaxed_  his brother appears. Loki is clad in thin wool, his hair pulled into a neat bun behind his head with his eyes running across the words on the book in an easy pace.

At least Loki looks much more restful now. Thor releases a relieved sigh as he takes the couch and begins reading the first chapter for his finals in Economics. 

_Talk to him, Thor._

He flips to another page, despite not being able to understand anything from the previous one. Come on, Odinson, suck it up. Just read the goddamn chapter like your life depended on it. He runs his eyes over the emphasized words and wills himself to just  _think_. 

_You need him by your side just as much as he needs you._

Alright, he gives up. He drops the book on his lap and curses Sif under his breath. Loki throws him a questioning brow.

“I used to think college would be a wild ride, you know?” Thor begins, going straight for it. “The frats, getting good credits, joining the football team... And yeah, it probably felt like that for a while, but then I began to feel pretty much nothing for these things."

His fingers trace the spine of the book. What is he even saying?

"At the end of the day, you either graduate, stick around, or find a job that will probably only last for two years unless you’re lucky enough to be the one  _holding_  the job.” Thor ignores the weird look Loki shoots him. “Then you spend the rest of your life anticipating whatever it is that tomorrow holds for you. And to be honest… I’m scared shitless.”

A beat passes. Nothing. And then—

“Why are you telling me this?” Loki’s eyes drop pointedly to the book above Thor’s lap. “Are you even studying?”

Thor manages a chuckle, wondering what’s screwing his head so much. “Hell, I don’t know.”

So much for listening to Sif’s advice. 

“Ironic.” Loki snorts, setting his own book aside. “Stop letting football get in your way, Thor. You got this. Finals are just around the corner, and that's far more important.”

Embarrassment creeps into Thor’s cheeks.

“You’re going to play, you’ll win championship again, and those petite and annoying women screaming your name in the bleachers will faint at your feet. Fantastic, whatever. You’ve done it before, you’ll do it again. But you gotta feed your brain too,” Loki tells him, surprisingly genuine. “Character plus intelligence… those two will make you thrive, Thor. Remember that.”

Thor finds himself grinning at his brother. “You give great advice.”

Loki only snorts and resumes browsing through his book.

…

The night slowly creeps into the early evening sky, reminding Thor of the couple of hours he has left before his Friday crawls into a night of studying.

He returns to the campus after a short period of lounging in the hospital, accomplishing nothing but taming the lingering urge to engage in a conversation with his brother to talk about whatever it is that comes to his mind.

Though a small part of himself is too proud to admit that the last thing Sif said to him was true, he can’t help but wonder how much of his “honesty” would affect Loki’s own perception of him as the optimistic older brother.

So despite what Sif suggested, dragging a chair out in front of Loki and confessing his own worries will neither be a quick fix nor a thorough and completely rational method that will effectively ease Thor’s head from this… anxiety.

And he stands by what he said. Loki  _is_  a martyr, but he’s not immune to his own fears. Thor voicing out his own worries to his brother, proud or not, would accomplish nothing but rub salt to the wound.

People have begun filing out of the libraries and lecture halls but even a blind man could sense how the campus is currently buzzing with anticipation. With only a week away from semi-finals against Alabama, selected student body representatives have begun hanging banners over light posts that effectively cover nearly eighty-percent of the campus in blue and white. Juniors and seniors who, by this time, would have witnessed more than two championships from the team, seem to be parading the varsity jackets given out by the sports department in the campus.

The very sight of his own university firing up for the upcoming game is almost too much to take in. Thor has lived through the same amount of preparation in the past three years, but with the last two games on his path, he can’t help but feel nostalgic.

And Thor isn’t the captain of the team, but he’s the only one who got selected to play during the last three championships in a row. With that knowledge apparent to a good chunk of the student body, Thor would often find himself at the receiving end of proud smiles from fellow college students and familiar professors.

On any other day, he’d share his growing enthusiasm and excitement with the rest of his teammates. But as Thor scans the sea of blue and white, all he could think about is Loki staring at the very same spectacle with all the boredom in his eyes, obviously unamused and very much indifferent to the exhilaration being shared by the student body as the days grow shorter to the next victory of Thor’s team.

But Thor would enjoy watching Loki’s unimpressed face all the way, knowing that the poorly-worded insults that slip out of his brother’s mouth are not heartfelt in the least.

****…**  ** ****

“Why are we doing this again?”

“God knows why. You just came here looking all miserable with all the failure on your face and your eyes were basically screaming  _oh, Loki, my ever so genius brother, please help me._ ”

Thor scoffed, “I'm not  _that_  desperate, you know,” then shifts on the foot of the bed to sneak a glance at the reviewers Loki has in his hand. “How do you even know what we’re discussing in Economics?”

“Must you be so blind?” Loki asked flatly, no longer impressed. “You forget that Sif sees your face in the very same Economics class.”

“Oh yeah. I totally forgot how you keep using her to keep tabs on my failures.”

“Alright, next item.” Loki ignores him completely, clearing his throat and reading the next quiz item from the page. “Provide the precise step-by-step procedure performed upon calculating the national savings.”

Thor grows silent then, obviously pondering over the answer. When his brother’s calculations drag for another ten seconds, Loki no longer bothers hiding his disbelief.

“Do you seriously not know?” he asks incredulously. “Thor, it’s just a formula of getting the sum of both public and private savings.” Then Loki runs his free hand through his hair. “Christ, what am I going to do with you?”

His tone sounds so resigned that Thor’s laughter soon fills the once silent atmosphere in the room. While the night is still freezing outside the building, warmth spreads across Loki’s chest and eases the muscles of his throat until he, too, is laughing at his brother’s own misfortune.

Thor stares at him with a toothed grin. “I make a great study partner, don’t I?”

“Oh, please. You’ll never be a substitute for Sif,” Loki disagrees, fairly amused at the offended look Thor shoots him. “Now, it’s a good thing, really. People can’t say you don’t bring justice to my reputation. At least when someone acquaints themself with our family, they’ll be quick to recognize who the smart one is.”

“You little shit.” Thor shoves a pillow into his direction which Loki dodges with a chuckle. “You’re insufferable sometimes, you know?”

“With all my heart.”

Thor, bless him, actually manages to catch up after a round of Loki pestering him to actually dig through his brain and make good use of his stock knowledge. Because in all honesty, Thor’s a smart guy too, and Loki knows that as well, which is why he’s very determined to knock a good amount of senses into his brother so that Thor would definitely want to try harder next time.

After an exchange of questions that goes on for half an hour, Loki resigns to his own reading and lets Thor dig through his books for the rest of his visit. He’s not even that far into his Political Science reviewers when Thor nudges his foot.

Loki jolts but doesn’t look up. “What is it?”

“You’re turning twenty next week.”

"Oh." Loki looks up, the realization dawning on him. “I am, aren't I?”

Thor flashes him a small smile. “Anything in particular you wanna wish for?”

“Anything in particular, you say?” Loki doesn’t even have to think about it, but he smirks and pretends to be thinking before turning to Thor in all seriousness. “Well, then. I’d like to see you pass your final calculus class with Professor Selvig with a 4.5 mark.”

“What the hell, Loki?” Thor chucks another pillow, laughing. “Do you want my head to blow up?”

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Loki argues. “I remain committed to the belief that you will  _absolutely_  be able to pull that off.”

“Yeah, of course,” Thor snorts, “except for the fact that I’m not as smart as you.”

Loki brings a book to his face to hide his grin.

__…_ _

Thor’s friends have been oddly attached to him for four complete days; following into the cafeteria when Thor would announce his break from training for a small meal, browsing through the library despite their little interest when Thor would excuse himself from their group to search for a couple of references.

It’s not bothersome, really, though Thor would be delighted to find out what has caused Fandral and Volstagg to pick up mindless habits as such just to be in his presence. For the most part, Thor appreciates their constant attendance as long as they don’t bicker around as much as they do on the field. Which is why Thor only tells them to shut up twice as they drown in various conversations in the dorm room with Thor visibly occupied with his books on the opposite bed.

On a serious note, Thor is devoting ninety percent of his time and attention to the book in front of him, his eyes scanning the several block of paragraphs about Foreign Currency Markets and Exchange Rates.

In the background, Volstagg and Fandral’s chattering continues.

“The guys from Alabama are flying out in two hours.”

“Any reason I should care?”

“Well, no. But we  _are_  going against them on Saturday night, and everyone’s on their toes, as far as I know. I just don’t understand why coach had to cancel the training tonight. Technically we’re supposed to run a hell lot of drills, listen to Coulson’s wise speeches, keep our blood pumping until we send those jocks back to where they came from."

“We're not savages. Coach can't let us knock ourselves out this early when he knows a game this big is ahead of us. Look at Thor, studying for his own finals instead of going on about kicking Alabama’s ass in three days.”

A pillow hits Thor at the back of his head.

“What the fuck?” Thor looks up to see two pairs of eyes staring at him.

“So.” Fandral has the audacity to look innocent. “We’ve noticed that you’ve been openly ignoring our presence.”

“Sorry about that.” Thor scratches the back of his neck. “It’s just... Loki’s actually offered to walk me through my finals, and god knows how much I’d hate to embarrass myself in front of him. I’m dropping by the hospital tonight to study.”

Fandral shoots him a grin which Volstagg seconds almost instantly. “You seem pretty determined, my friend.”

“Yeah, well.” Thor chuckles, strangely growing sheepish. “You know how sharp my brother is. Apparently when you spend three hours listening to him go on about economic views, his genius just rubs off on you.”

They leave him alone after that, to which Thor shows his gratitude by promising them with a round of drinks at the nearest local bar once they finally get through semi-finals  _and_  semestral finals.

****…**  ** ****

When the door creaks open, Loki doesn’t even have to look up to see who it is. Thor has been visiting every night to study with him just before visiting hours are over, always remembering to bring his fair share of reviewers for Loki to run through before Loki begins to throw a couple of questions.

“You’re late, Thor.”

“Traffic.” Thor slips his jacket off, flinging it towards the couch and quickly making himself comfortable on the foot of the bed. “Let’s run through three chapters tonight, come on.”

Loki is only slightly surprised at Thor’s persistence when Loki suggests that perhaps tackling only two chapters wouldn’t be much of a problem. They’ve been studying on and off for the past four days and it’s become a habit of Loki to wonder why his brother is stressing over his own finals when it’s still days away after the big game.

But Loki does exactly what Thor asks him to. With enough enthusiasm and plain curiosity, Thor is able to answer a lot more questions than he was able to when he first asked Loki for help with his finals. And Loki, who’s only a tad bit proud that he’s managed to play a huge role in Thor’s evident improvement, actually grows generous enough to praise his brother’s progress with a genuine grin whenever Thor gets the calculations right.

“Hey, Thor.”

“Hmm?” Thor doesn’t look up from where he’s reading the last couple of paragraphs about trade balance.

Loki studies him, allows himself the chance to watch his brother act around him without any weight on his shoulders, with no one around to pester him about football, or to remind him of his growing responsibilities outside the hospital.

A small part of Loki is grateful that his brother came to him for help. He knows that Thor is only three days away from winning his spot in his fourth and last championship, but the fact that he’s spending the last of his days lounging in the hospital to talk about the things he's already discussed with his professor in Economics class only lets Loki wonder just how much Thor is willing to spend time with him.

He reaches out and closes the book Thor is reading. “Let’s go to the garden.”

“Now?” Thor blinks at him. “Sigyn’s gonna drag your ass back even before you get past the station.”

Loki sits up and shakes his head. “Sigyn spoils me and polishes the ground I tread on.” When Thor only snorts, Loki rolls his eyes and gestures towards the IV stand. “I’ve done it before, alright? Now help me with the damn wheelchair.”

As it turns out, visiting the garden is much more of a pleasant experience when the sky is not heavily hanging a storm over Loki’s head and is instead painting the dusty pavements in a splash of white. Loki begins to shiver when he and Thor finally step out into the fresh air, but Thor, bless him, actually halts in their tracks to throw his own jacket over Loki’s shoulders.

“Thank you,” Loki whispers, meaning every word.

Thor brings them to the very same bench they’ve always been occupying and brushes the thin layer of snow from the seat so they wouldn’t soak into his jeans. Loki remains on his wheelchair next to the bench, savoring a couple more seconds of utter silence with his brother until he swallows loudly and allows his mind to speak for himself.

“Dad visited me today.”

He turns to his left and catches a brief flash of surprise across Thor’s face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Loki echoes and looks away, distantly remembering Odin face. His fingers crawl towards the book sitting across his lap. “Dropped by to give me some stuff to read.”

“That’s nice.” Thor voice trails off, but Loki could feel his brother’s eyes digging into the back of his skull. “Did you two talk?”

A moment passes. The question seems unusually unspecific, so Loki waits for his brother to ask a more loaded question to follow his words. He counts the stretch of silence for ten seconds inside his head. Thor doesn’t ask anything else.

“Yes,” Loki forces out, realizing that Thor isn’t pushing. Thank god. Hesitantly, Loki turns to look at him.

But Thor only flashes him a smile. “That’s nice.”

When the silence settles in again, Loki grants himself some room to breathe in. He doesn’t know why he’s confessed that to his brother, doesn’t know why he’s bothered enough to even think about not confessing it out loud at all, but he figures it would be better this way, when his chest is free from the weight he’s always feared carrying, and the light in Thor’s eyes is a beacon enough to lead Loki out of his own darkness.

So when the preserved silence around them dissipates, it’s only when Thor finally speaks again.

“Let’s go to the ocean once you’re out of here.”

Loki's fingers freeze on his knee.

He hasn’t lost so much air when he hears those words tumble out of Thor’s reckless mouth. It’s not unlike of his older brother to be speaking of matters without carefully treading through his words, but the words that do escape his mouth speak volumes of a sincerity Loki hasn’t heard in quite a while. So when he blinks up at Thor now, he’s fails to control the tremor in his voice when he asks, “Why?”

“I don’t know,” Thor shrugs, but he’s smiling. Thor, the damn reckless oaf is  _smiling_ , and Loki isn’t prepared enough to understand what emotion lies underneath that look.

Thor tilts his head to direct his gaze far into the distance but Loki catches his elbow before he could. “Thor,” he warns.

The smile vanishes. When Thor looks at him, Loki thinks all the air is pushed completely out of his lungs.

“You haven’t been there in years, Lo.” Thor pulls away from Loki’s grip but returns his complete attention to him. “I thought maybe you’d like to see the water again… that is, if you want to, of course.”

Loki wants to run, to leave everything behind, ask the ground to swallow him and curl into himself for comfort. He can’t even begin to explain just how much visiting the ocean would mess with his head, how voluntarily dipping his ankles into five inches of seawater would instantly make him want to run back towards the sand.

It will undoubtedly be a terrifying experience, and he wishes for nothing more than to spend the rest of his life avoiding the one place where mere waves could quickly overpower him. But as he scans Thor’s face for any hint of ridicule, Loki finds none. He bores his eyes into Thor's openly displayed sincerity, and realizes just how much he actually  _misses_  the ocean.

Against all odds, Loki eventually agrees. “We’ll see.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nope, Loki has not yet forgiven Odin completely, but he's always looking forward to things getting easier in the future :)


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The important days have come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few chapters left! Here's chapter thirteen for all of you :)
> 
> Also, before I finish publishing everything, I will have to show you guys some promotional art for this fic. I'm still working on it, and I'm VERY excited to show it to all of you! 
> 
> Enjoy!

 

“Let’s take a break.” Thor groans next to him, pushing the book away. “It’s been two hours. My head is killing me.”

It’s the last night before Loki’s finals together with Thor’s big game, and they’ve come to an unspoken mutual agreement that they'll both spend the night in the hospital, bickering back and forth about Open-Economy Macroeconomics and how much of a victory it would be if Thor’s team actually _wins_  tomorrow night.

There’s still a complete hour before Thor leaves and Loki considers spending the time left by going through the last topic they’ve discussed just to make sure that Thor actually held onto the information.

Apparently, his brother has other plans.

It's been days since Thor has taken a liking to sitting cross-legged at the foot of the bed with Loki neither arguing nor caring about his brother's sudden closeness, so when Thor shifts to a more comfortable position on the sheets, Loki does nothing but watch him settle around.

“You know, Sif took me to the gym recently.”

Loki hums as he flips through his reviewers. “I’m surprised you made it out alive.”

“Well.” Thor settles on his back, fiddling with a pen between his fingers. “She wasn’t exactly the one who trained me.”

“Oh?”

“Some guy named Hogun. Sharp punches, has a lot of openings, though. And he talks… weird.”

Loki chuckles, knowing exactly who Thor is referring to. “Sif’s old instructor, that guy. He was the one who got her into boxing in the first place. Doesn’t talk much, but when he does, his words mess with your head.”

Thor sounds intrigued. “You’ve met him before?”

“Not really. Sif offered to bring me to that guy one time, to show me what it’s like to knock people out.”

“Yeah?” Thor grins at him. “I could teach you how, you know. If you’re curious.”

Loki snorts. “No thanks.” Apparently that’s not a thought he wishes to entertain at the moment. “Besides, Sif only wanted to see me try and embarrass myself. That woman, I swear. Sometimes I think she brings nothing but danger to my life.”

Thor barks out a laugh, low and full. “Biggest understatement of the year.” He shakes his head and shoots Loki a look. “Actually, you’re the one bringing danger to yourself. Sif’s a lot of things, but she’s outgoing too, and has a hell lot of nerve.”

“And smart,” Loki interjects.

“And smart,” Thor echoes, chuckling. “Great person to be around with, really. And she talks about you like you hung the moon.”

“Why, Thor, that is _definitely_  most flattering.”

A pillow hits the side of Loki’s face. When he steals the cushion and hurls it back to Thor, he’s laughing. A momentary stillness falls over them. Loki’s laughter dies down until he’s all but staring at Thor’s face, waiting for his brother to lead the way through their easy talk, but finds himself reluctant to wait any longer because the look Thor is giving him is something he can’t quite read.

A longer pause, Loki is holding his breath. Then Thor cracks the ice. “Her support really means a lot to you, doesn't it?”

“More than you know,” Loki replies, and he only does so because something in Thor’s voice tells him that his brother is nothing but genuinely curious. He turns away, swallowing audibly. “When she first saw me carrying that tank around class, she neither pointed out nor ridiculed how odd I looked with that thing.”

“What did she do then?”

Loki’s eyes snap to Thor. “She carried it,” and in a softer tone, “probably because she noticed me having trouble dragging the tank up and down the stairs.”

A wave of nostalgia washes over him. Just a year ago, still a freshman himself and wandering through unfamiliar halls that had already been Thor’s second home. Looking back, Loki is still familiar with every single ounce of fear he held upon entering college. Thor’s presence had been a great reminder of home, but Thor wasn’t always there when Loki received odd looks from students whenever he had his tank trailing behind his legs, and Loki _understood_  why things had to be like that, why Thor couldn’t watch his back all the time, but that didn’t stop Loki from feeling queasy and irritated when somebody threw glances in his direction.

That was until he met Sif.

“I’m glad that you’re friends with her,” Thor tells him eventually. “What about that nurse? Does she still come here to see you?”

“In the mornings, yes.” Loki leans his weight against the headboard. “It’s a novelty to have her around, especially when I’m in a particularly horrible mood and she pays no heed to my tantrums.”

Thor seems to chuckle at that. “Probably reads you like an open book,”

“Probably.”

Thor shifts on the sheets once more, now lying on his side with his head propped up by an arm. “I think you have really, really great friends.”

That causes Loki to crack a grin. “I think you just need to get laid.”

The pillow that Thor hurls at him takes Loki by surprise.

“What the fuck, Loki,” Thor barks out, laughing, obviously taken aback. His eyes have widened and his mouth is held agape but the sight of Thor looking very much horrified only makes Loki laugh even harder.

He chucks a notebook at Thor. “How am I supposed to think otherwise when you’re the one blabbering about my friends who happen to be women?”

“Stop.” Thor falls onto his back and groans. “Fuck girlfriends. I’m _hyped_  for semi-finals. Besides…” He turns to Loki with a cheeky grin and says, “I still have a child to take care of.”

“Asshole.” Loki crosses his arms. “Enough about me, since you’ve done a considerable amount of prying. What about football?”

“Fuck,” Thor breathes out, as if only remembering himself. He runs a hand through his hair. “We’re going against Alabama tomorrow night.”

The tone his brother uses almost sounds apprehensive. Loki regards Thor with a careful eye and catches his brother clawing at his palm. “You don’t look too excited.”

“Must be the nerves talking.”

With another glance over Thor’s features, Loki decides that his brother is utterly and thoroughly anxious as fuck.

“Stop worrying, would you?” Loki says, exasperated. “You’re supposed to be feeling great with this sort of thing. Instead, you’re hiding away and acting all… wrought up and tense. It’s weird.”

At those words, Thor at least flashes him a small smile. It’s barely there, but even without his full enthusiasm, Loki understands what his brother is trying to convey.

“I _am_ excited, Lo,” Thor tells him, staring at the ceiling. “But it’s a lot to be excited for.”

Loki is already coming up of something to say when he bends over sharply as if he’s been punched in the stomach, clamping a hand over his mouth to cough into his palm.

“Loki.” Thor springs from the bed and Loki hacks continuously even as a hand rubs circles on his back. “Hey, you alright? I’ll get you some water.”

Loki does nothing but watch as his brother reaches across the nightstand to grab the half-empty glass. Thor hands it to him as one hand returns to Loki’s back.

“Thanks.” Loki takes the glass and empties its contents. His coughs ease down in slow degrees until they slowly, slowly pass.

“What was that?” Thor asks him a while later, when Loki has already managed to clear his throat and soothe the tightness of his chest. “You haven’t been coughing before.”

“Just side-effects, I think.”

It truth, Loki doesn’t know why he’s suddenly having dry coughs, but they _must_ be side-effects. There’s nothing alarming about mild coughs, but Thor is looking at him in a way that speaks volumes of his growing concern, and Loki is beginning to hate how small he feels under Thor’s distressed face.

So he manages what he only hopes would be a reassuring smile and says, “I’m alright, Thor,” then adding when Thor’s frown doesn’t disappear, “It’s just dry cough.”

Loki proves himself wrong when that scratch in his throat returns after no less than a few minutes and forces him in a fit of hacking once again. Thor helps with the water every time Loki coughs into his palm, saying nothing to address his own concern for which Loki is silently grateful.

The hour soon crawls to an end. Loki makes a show of casting his books aside to wrap his and Thor’s study session up. But then Thor doesn’t move from his spot on the bed, and in Loki’s mind he’s already counting the seconds that would pass before Thor ever moves at all, instantly growing aware that the longer the silence stretches, the more reluctant he is to watch his brother leave.

It’s almost as if his brother is thinking of the same thing, because the way Thor sits makes him appear almost hesitant, and for a fraction of a second, Loki fears the meaning behind that.

“I can stay the night, you know,” Thor offers, and Loki’s breath hitches in his throat. “If you want.”

Loki would like that. He’d like that very much, and though it’s a huge risk to admit that even to himself, it’s the truth, plain and earnest as it is. He’d like to witness the extremes of Thor’s concern, his instant reflexes whenever Loki coughs and asks for another glass of water. He’d like to see what Thor is willing to do for him in times of need, and Loki hates himself for hoping for such a possibility because at the same time, he’s also admitting to himself just how much he _needs_ Thor beside him.

He’d like that, just for the sake of testing the waters, but Thor has a game tomorrow while Loki himself has a series of tests first thing in the morning, so he can’t. Loki can’t let himself have any of this now.

“You don’t have to,” he tells Thor with as much conviction as possible. “I have History at eight tomorrow, and though your company would be very appreciated, I’d rather be alone when I take the tests.”

“Are you sure?”

Loki nods. “Positive.”

“Alright.” Thor rises from the bed and moves in to ruffle Loki’s hair. “Good luck with your finals tomorrow. Make sure to beat Sif while you’re at it.”

That cracks a grin from Loki. “It’s nice to know you’ve placed your money on me.”

“Don’t get too cocky,” Thor chuckles. He grabs his backpack from the couch and begins placing his books inside, throwing Loki a side glance. “Text me when you’re finished with all of your exams, yeah?”

Loki watches his brother pack. After nearly a month of staying in the hospital day and night, witnessing his visitors leave has always been the part Loki dreads. It’s a reminder that people have other responsibilities outside the hospital that they just cannot kiss his feet all the time, and that Loki himself has his own deed to uphold—to stay in bed and let his body heal with the medicine. A tiring process that drains both his strength and motivation, one that allows him to frown as Thor throws his bag over his shoulder and grabs his jacket from the chair.

“Thor?”

Thor whirls around. “Yeah?”

“Good luck with your game tomorrow,” Loki offers, with a voice of his own that's nearly inaudible. And it’s not much, as Loki knows that his brother has never needed that much reassurance in his life, but when Thor smiles at those words, Loki knows that Thor has heard the unspoken encouragement anyway.

“Thanks, Lo.” Thor’s smile is bright underneath the lights, overwhelming Loki with a strange wave of relief that he hasn’t felt in a while. Thor draws closer to wrap a hand around Loki’s neck before pulling away and approaching the door. “I’ll be waiting for your text.”

Without another word, Thor leaves the room, and Loki, troubled as he is, crawls into his sheets with all the weight lifted from his chest.

…

Thor startles when a hand lands on his shoulder. He looks up from where he’s crouching down to slip his shoes on and blinks at the towering height of Volstagg.

“Hey, man.” Thor smiles, getting onto his feet. “Came here to fetch me?”

“Right you are.” Volstagg chuckles, leading them both out of the locker rooms. “Didn’t want to go out there without the potential MVP of the season.”

The easy banter manages to tame Thor’s nerves for quite a while that he finds himself returning to a more relaxed demeanor even as they step out into the field. The crowd roars at the team’s first couple of steps on the turf, and when Thor looks up to scan the stadium, his heart leaps out of his chest in both exhilaration and anxiety.

The energy buzzing among the walls of Georgia State University Stadium has always been a spectacle that never fails to drag Thor into a high. Shirts of blue and white stand out among the maroon jerseys of the Alabama Roosters, to which Thor is careful to pay little attention while he searches for Coulson across the field and finds the man staring at him with an unyielding confidence.

There’s only a minute left before the first quarter begins. GSU Panthers on the defensive, Alabama Roosters to be in possession with the ball. Thor, the cornerback that he is, remains in his position as the offensive players fall in line in front of his team.

Fifteen seconds before the game begins. Thor clamps a hand over his chest, feeling it thump underneath his palm. This is the second to the last game before his final championship, _if_  they ever win tonight. It’s a lot to hope for, especially because Thor could no longer doubt the prowess Alabama has shown on the field last year. If the Panthers win tonight, good god, Thor would lose his head in joy. And if they lose... well. It’s been one hell of a ride.

Three seconds left. Thor bends to his knees and listens to the whistle go off.

Alabama’s offensive line surges forward, the quarterback behind them undoubtedly already having snatched the football and aiming for a passing play towards their wild receiver at the side of the field. Thor, the closest blocker, runs towards the player who’s managed to catch the football and tackles him down.

The offensive team goes down at the 40-yard line, still too far from the end-zone where they must aim for a touchdown. Thor grins behind his helmet, a plan for a continuous effective defense slowly formulating.

Seven minutes into the fifteen-minute quarter, with the ball in the Panther's possession and taking last shot they have before they return to the center line, one of the tacklers in Thor’s team falls, rammed into the ground by Alabama’s middle linebacker.

The crowd erupts in synchronized  _boos_.

As the referees set out to justify the foul recently committed by said linebacker, Thor squints far into the Roosters. Volstagg, who’s settled a few feet away from Thor, calls his attention. “You know who that dude is?”

“Freyr,” Thor answers back, a gruff breath escaping his lips at the linebacker's name. “Don’t underestimate him. Seems harmless, but he’ll take the rest of the guys down if he wants to.”

As if fueled by his growing wariness, Thor guides his team into consequent sets when Alabama’s tactics grow uncoordinated. When the first quarter ends, the Panthers lead the scores by 7-0 by a complete touchdown which immediately brings the whole crowd onto their feet followed by a ringing wave of screams.

The game has started well, and as much as Thor wants to hold his excitement back, he can’t help but feel confident at their great start.

It’s not until they’re playing four minutes into the second quarter that Thor notices a pattern.

Alabama’s offensive line is certainly no match for the defense of Thor’s team, but their quarterback and wide receivers have definitely upped their game. The first time they score in the second quarter, they do that by getting their wide receiver successfully past through the sidelines. And that’s worth _two_ points. They don't just stop scoring after that.

The Panthers manage a couple good blocks, but it’s not long until the quarterback from Alabama escapes the Panthers’ defensive line and sprints towards the end of the field for a possible field goal. Thor and a few other players catch up in an attempt to tackle him down, but before they could shove the quarterback down into the dirt, the guy manages to pass the football to another player, who runs without being blocked and leads the Roosters to a full touchdown.

Alabama scores seven points ahead of Georgia.

Thor kicks the turf out of frustration, barely recognizing Coulson’s whistle that shrills for an immediate time-out. When he reaches the group, multiple players have already begun bickering.

“You see what they’re doing? They’ve settled on advancing towards the sidelines just to stack their scores up!”

Fandral, who’s been roughly shoved for the past half-quarter, speaks with nearly obvious bitterness. “Those fuckers are almost too fast for any of us to tackle!”

“We can’t keep letting them enter the sidelines. If we can’t score ahead of them, the least we can do is improve our blocks.”

Amid the fruitless exchange, Coulson remains standing with a clipboard pressed to his chest while harboring a consistent frown towards all of the players. Thor sighs in resignation, determined to keep the team’s concerns at bay.

“Listen up!” he cuts in, effectively catching the team’s attention. “Don’t let their methods fool you! We are not arrogant _idiots_  who will whine when their competence overpowers us.”

When no one from the team bothers speaking up, Thor takes his cue to continue.

“Coach taught us the strategies. We’ve been trained to find a passage towards the goal and to find a passage is what we will do.” He scans the rest of the group before raising his voice. “Alabama’s quick, yes, but if we can’t surpass them in speed, we’ll overpower them with our tactics. Think and move quickly. Whoever receives the ball, lead us forward at all costs but draw back when you have to.”

The technique works for a while. Whatever Thor has told his team must have offered some sort of encouragement to the guys because they’re soon able to keep up with their blocks. Alabama hasn’t stopped getting past their defense line, and they certainly haven’t gotten tired from entering the sidelines to slowly add the points to their score, but Thor doesn’t consider those as reasons to give up.

Though when the third quarter ends with a score of 17-20 in favor of Alabama, making it through his fourth championship has slowly become a far-fetched goal to Thor.

They’re already more than ten minutes into the fourth and last quarter when Coulson signals for a time-out. Thor’s vision is already blurry from a building migraine when he finally joins the circle around their coach.

“When you have the ball, I need you to focus,” Coulson says, the volume of his voice effectively forcing Thor to pay attention. “Your body will sense the Roosters chasing you down, but your eyes will only see your next receiver. So get it together and win this!”

The groups booms with a synchronized _yes coach_  before they run back and scatter themselves on the field. Thor turns to follow them, but a hand on his elbow stops him in his tracks.

“Thor.” Coulson turns him around. Thor pants through labored breaths but otherwise gives the man his complete attention. “You’ll win this game, I’m sure of it. You’ve been through so much just to lose everything now.”

At those words, something stirs underneath Thor’s chest. He’s utterly exhausted from all the running and tackling but he’s also still very much determined to give his university one last victory.

When he returns to the field, the ball is in their own possession. Thor makes sure to pass by Fandral behind the offensive line. “Fandral, there’s only two minutes left. You have to bring the damn ball out there!”

Fandral is obviously aggravated himself but Thor doesn’t let the act fool him. “I’m _trying_ , man!”

The whistle goes off, and two minutes turns into one as the players from the offensive line pass the ball to Fandral. Thor sprints down into the open field, watches out for close defensive players from the Roosters but mainly tries to catch Fandral’s figure among the sea of maroon jerseys.

Thirty seconds left, and the blond quarterback is still stuck behind the defense. Thor is seriously forced to yell across the field until he spots Fandral surge into the group of guys and successfully evades their blocks. Thor is soon overcome by the growing sense of hope, eager to see Fandral bring the team to a complete touchdown and finally present the university with another well-deserved win.

But then a few more players from the Roosters catch up behind the quarterback, and it's not until Thor catches the sight of his friend being tackled down into the ground that he feels his hope being crushed. His vision floods with white and he’s visibly panicking, growling in anger behind his helmet. When the player holding the ball is tackled down, the team in possession of the ball loses their chance to score. And Fandral _is_  down, but where’s the ball? Where’s the _fucking_  ball…?

“Thor!”

Thor whirls around to see Volstagg in the center of the field, aiming for him with raised arms. He has the ball with him, and Thor catches it in reflex, forcing his legs to pick up their pace as a couple of defensive players chase him down towards the end-zone.

His heart is thrumming inside his chest, his own blood running cold yet surging with adrenaline as the seconds draw to an end and he’s close, so close to the goal.

Thor sets his eyes on the blue paint of _Panthers_  engraved on the turf. He sprints down and raises the football in his arms, and with a wide grin splitting his once creased face, Thor slams the football down into the grass, scoring his team a complete set of four points ahead of Alabama.

The crowd erupts in fit of screams, wild and ear-splitting. Thor releases the ball and falls to the ground, only to be hefted up by a pair of muscular arms until he’s being manhandled into the air by a group of idiots from his team who are all sporting wide grins across their faces.

They’ve won. They’re proceeding to another championship.

The team’s anthem _Fight Panthers_  blares through the trumpets of the marching band, and Thor savors the exhilarating rush of triumph as he grins into the air and smells the sweet scent of victory.

They’ve won.

When the celebration crawls to an end, the guys from the team set out to a night of drinking and spending the rest of the hours in the city. Thor kindly declines their invitation and returns to the dorms to rest.

He smiles when his phone screen illuminates against the darkness of his room. Right there, beneath the bright flash of _12:34 AM_ across his screen, is a message notification from none other than Loki.

_Definitely aced the tests, or so I think. Anyways, congrats on the win. I’m feeling very thoughtful tonight, wouldn’t you say?_

_Visit whenever you can. Good night, Thor._

**_**_…_**_**

Loki’s not stupid. From just the amount of force Sigyn is exerting to push the wheelchair through the hall, he could tell that the nurse is very much displeased with his choices.

“Oh please. Don’t give me crap for not wanting to indulge in the presence of those other patients,” he tells her, sighing in relief as they grow closer to his room. “I understand that they may be very empathetic with me, but I don't want to talk to them, and I firmly refuse to wait in line for my scans without a book.”

So here’s what happened that morning:

Sigyn enters Loki’s room with a sickeningly enthusiastic grin to announce his appointment in the Radiology department which would take place in an hour. And Loki, seeing as he's been roughly disturbed in his sleep, slips out of his bed and onto his wheelchair with a sour demeanor and loudly voices his distaste when he realizes that there's a line being held in the corridor before the office, claiming that he would need to return to his room to grab a book instead of putting up with idle talks among the patients.

Apparently, Sigyn is still very much upset with him.

“Sigyn,” he repeats. “Look. Just let me grab something to read so we can return to the line with some peace and quiet.”

“But they’re nice people,” Sigyn argues. “I don’t know why you hate talking to people so much. Your socializing abilities have seriously fallen flat that they’re agonizing to look at sometimes.”

Loki snorts. “I didn’t ask for your assessment. Besides, it’s not my fault I’m in a shit mood. I do hope you recall pulling my ass out of bed earlier.”

“Only serves you right.”

He snickers under his breath, fairly amused with the nerve of this woman. It’s only been a month since Loki has gotten to know her, but everytime Sigyn hangs around him, Loki is always revisited with past memories with Sif when they were still newly acquainted with each other. He could pull a chair out and count the similarities between those two using his own fingers.

And Loki definitely wasn’t lying when he said those words to Thor, that being around Sigyn costs him nothing but an earnest behavior in her presence. Sometimes it’s a liberating feeling to know that he doesn’t have to walk on eggshells in front of the nurse.

Sigyn halts in front of the door. Loki reaches out to turn the knob, but when the door cracks open, the sight that awaits inside the room takes Loki by complete surprise.

“ _Happy birthday_!”

Streamers that glimmer in emerald and gold fall from the ceiling where large balloons that spell his name are hung. The voices that erupt in a bubbly laughter fill the room, replacing the static ringing in Loki’s ears. When the streamers hit the ground and the initial shock finally subsides, Loki blinks at the sight of his family scattered in the area who's wearing equally bright grins across their faces.

“What...?” he trails off, not knowing what to say. Loki whirls around to face the nurse. “Sigyn, I believe you said I had an appointment this morning?”

Sigyn actually _laughs_ , loud and cheerful, the first earnest laugh Loki has ever heard from her. “Oh, for crying out loud. Forget the nonexistent appointment, spend the time with your family!”

Loki could only blink, still very much overwhelmed with the progression of events inside his room. He’s only beginning to look back to the spectacle when a pair of arms pulls him forward.

He’s met face-to-face with Sif.

“I got you two Starbucks cards,” Sif tells him with a grin. “Discounted black coffee for three months. How does that sound?”

Loki doesn’t know how to respond to that. “I’m not allowed to drink caffeine while I’m here.”

“When you get discharged then,” Sif says, chuckling. She pulls Loki in for a hug. “Happy birthday, smartass.”

He catches a brief scent of apples in Sif’s hair before he’s being pulled away by Frigga’s warmer arms.

“Happy birthday, my dear,” she sighs into Loki’s hair, and Loki only pulls her closer with one arm, the other infused hand resting above his lap. He hasn’t hugged her this tight in so long. “I love you so much.”

Loki sniffles into her neck, too stunned to wipe his eyes. “Thank you, mom,” he whispers, close enough that Frigga would hear. And in a firmer tone, he adds, “I love you, too.”

The smile that Frigga flashes him when she pulls away is enough to relieve Loki from the remaining weariness he feels deep in his bones. He returns a grateful smile and ignores the tears that continue welling up in his eyes.

“My son.” Odin steps forward and locks Loki’s shoulders in a firm grip. Loki’s breath catches in his throat, watching as his father draws closer. A small smile is etched across Odin’s face. “Happy birthday, my clever boy.”

Then Odin pulls him into his chest.

By now, Loki’s cheeks are stained with tears. Odin’s arms around him are tight and unbreakable and Loki falls apart at the thought that perhaps _this_ … this is what it feels like to have the complete force of Odin’s love. That this is how it feels to cast the family’s secrets aside and face one another with his vulnerability out in the open.

Loki hopes it is.

“Thank you, dad,” he whispers, frozen in his place. Loki forces an arm up and hooks it around Odin’s waist. “Thank you.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Loki spots Thor in the corner of the room with a cake in his hands. Odin draws back, as if sensing that Loki’s attention has been pulled away by something else, and slowly detaches himself from Loki with an ever-present grin.

Thor, with a grin so wide and painfully obnoxious, begins taking small steps toward Loki, keeping the cake steady in his hands. He kneels in front of Loki, places the cake on Loki’s lap, and looks up.

But then—

“Your hair.” Loki frowns, reaching out to run his hand through Thor’s nonexistent golden locks. “What did you do?”

Thor breaks into a throaty laugh and quirks a brow. “Hideous?”

 _Surprisingly decent enough _,__  Loki wants to say, studying Thor’s shorn hair with a perceptive eye before sporting a small smile of his own. “You look cleaner.”

Thor’s grin widens. He removes the cake from Loki’s lap before shifting on his feet and hauling Loki into his arms. The rumbling beneath Thor’s chest is a soothing sound against Loki’s ear. “Happy birthday, Lo.”

In between equal controlled breaths, Loki squeezes his eyes shut and hugs his brother just as tight. Thor holds him close, grins into his hair, and when Loki opens his eyes to look to his left, he sees Odin clamp Frigga’s hand with his own before holding her as close as Thor is holding him.

They get Loki to blow the cake afterwards. _Make a wish_ , they tell him. It’s a silly notion, really, one that Loki dismisses by chuckling in response and stalling for a second to make it seem as if he’s already making a wish. But deep down, Loki treasures the opportunity dearly. He thinks of his family, thinks of himself, thinks of his own future, and wishes he could be strong enough to battle against his fears until the end.

The small gathering goes on for hours. Loki’s heart swells at the newness of things and makes a point of only smiling when he could already feel himself breaking inside.

Sif hands him the promised Starbucks cards, for which he is honestly grateful. Frigga gifts him with jackets that would be great additions to his wardrobe. Odin shows him a box filled with fiction books with the promise to add more to his collection once Loki finishes them all.

Thor, on the other hand… Thor has been a lingering presence in the room. He sends Loki occasional glances as they eat but when the chatter in the atmosphere escalates, Thor refuses to involve himself.

Loki watches his brother while as he drowns in talks with Sif. Even after winning against Alabama two days ago, Thor appears rather glum. But if there’s anything going on with his brother at the moment, Loki knows they'll have all the time to talk tonight.

For now, he _celebrates _.__

****…** **

When Thor holds out the wheelchair for him, Loki immediately bristles.

“I don’t want that thing,” he tells Thor, shaking his head. The lights in the room have been dimmed when the others left, but Loki could still make out the way Thor’s brows furrow.

“Are you sure?” Thor asks. “The garden is two floors down.”

Loki understands that his brother only means to put him in check, but he doesn’t want the wheelchair now. Not anymore.

“Come on, Thor,” Loki pushes, mustering up an encouraging smile. “There’s still an hour before my birthday is officially over. Let me live a little.”

Thor visibly hesitates, but otherwise relents.

It’s only eleven in the evening, but Loki’s phone tells him it’s 32 degrees outside, and this time he grabs a jacket of his own so that Thor wouldn't have offer his. Loki's knees hurt when he forces himself onto his feet, but as they escape the nurses on their way to the garden, Thor only guides him in his steps with an arm secured around Loki's waist.

They don’t head to the bench like they usually would. Instead, Loki insists on a detour and asks Thor to lead them through the columns of trees. By this time, he has already grown accustomed to walking without any support and asks Thor to let go. But even as they drift apart, they still remain close, walking side by side in the same pace.

The silence between them is comfortable, but Loki wants answers.

“Your head’s going places,” he comments, throwing a sideglance at his brother. “What’s going on, Thor?”

Thor merely chuckles, opting to stare straight ahead. He doesn’t meet Loki’s eyes, which would have been a great chance for Loki to read his brother’s face.

“Just thinking,” Thor offers eventually.

“About what?”

“About stuff… and school, maybe.” This time, Thor looks at Loki, but he doesn’t appear too certain with what he’s saying. “I thought maybe we could start talking about the things we’ll do once we’re finished with college.”

Loki makes a non-committal hum. “But you’re graduating in a few months. I’m certain you’ve already given a lot of thought to your future.”

The sound of gravel crunching under Thor’s shoes fills the silence that follows.

“I mean yeah, I might just lurk around, probably get a local job or something for two more years or so,” Thor rambles. They pass through the fountain before walking through another column of trees. The next time Thor speaks, he sounds cautious. “Maybe sit around for a while, I don’t know. It won’t be long until you graduate too.”

Loki pauses, throws a wary look at Thor’s face. “Why do you have to wait for me?” He shakes his head and averts his gaze, finding his brother's words ridiculous. “Get a damn job, Thor. Travel the world for all I care. You took up international business; you can’t expect to nourish your name here in Georgia.”

“Yeah, well. I actually wanted to ask you about your plans, too.”

It's been a while since they've both stopped in their tracks. Loki can’t see him now, but he knows his brother is looking at him, and judging by the tone in Thor's voice, Loki could conclude that Thor is _pleading _.__

Which isn’t always a good thing.

“Political science. What’s your next step?” Thor continues. “Take up law afterwards? Cool. Maybe you want to engage in public policy? That’s great, really.”

Then a hand tugs at Loki’s wrist, and without having the chance to pull away, Loki is soon met with the sight of Thor sporting an unreadable expression.

“Or you could dig into marketing research, link some studies with the economy or public relations, then collaborate with an independent business owner.” For a moment, Thor’s eyes seem to search for his, and Loki gulps audibly to ease the tightness in his throat. “You could set your path straight, plan your own agendas…" 

_Please don’t tell me what I think you’re trying to say._

Loki pulls away, squeezes his eyes shut to the rest of the world.

“I want to work together, Lo,” Thor finally whispers. “Have my own kin for a great partner who’ll ensure I won’t screw myself into making stupid decisions all the time.” 

 _Why?_ _Why do you always have to return to me?_

His heart races and his pulse pumps in an erratic pace. When Loki looks up this time, he falls apart at the evident flash of hope in Thor's eyes.

“You’re unbelievable,” he tells Thor. “What happens if I take up law instead?”

Thor bristles, but recovers almost instantly. Loki’s not going to take up law. He’s pretty much fixed with the decision, but his brother doesn’t know that.

Thor lets go of his wrist.

“Then you’ll establish your own law firm and link your office to my business as my main consultant.”

“What if choose to work for the government?” Loki argues, guarded. “I’ll be public property by then, Thor. You won’t be able to snag me for your private _business_  by all means.”

“Would you really?” Thor asks slowly. “Working for the government in such a large office… is that what you really want for yourself?

It's not.

“This is crazy, Thor,” Loki tells him, choosing his words carefully, hoping his brother would see reason. He’s breathing heavily now. “Go ahead and do your own thing, build your own life. We don’t _have_  to work together, and you certainly don’t have to stick around.”

“But I _want_  to, Loki.”

His heart pounds.

“And it’s not crazy,” Thor continues, inching forward to grip Loki’s shoulders. “What’s so wrong with me wanting to stay?”

When Loki doesn’t respond, Thor only releases a sigh.

“Will you just think about it? I know it’s still a lot to think about, but you have enough time. I’ll wait for your word if you ever send it, but if you want to do this differently,” his fingers loosen around Loki’s shoulders, “then you’re your own person, Lo. I can’t change that.” Thor's voice recedes to a whisper. “I’d support you in every way I can.” 

 _This_ … whatever this is, it’s too much. The light in Thor’s eyes gives away so much of what he’s probably telling through his actions, but now that he’s just staring at Loki like this, as if he’s just _proving_  how much he really cares and how much more he’s willing to care, then Loki must let go. He _must_ , because if he doesn’t let go now, he doesn’t know when he ever will.

So he pulls away, and to his surprise, Thor just lets him.

“Is this what you’re giving me for my birthday?” Loki asks, turning away, but his tone is lighter. “You had no idea what to get me today, so you plague me with your annoying existence?”

"You got me all figured out then." Thor’s hand creeps above the nape of Loki’s neck to ruffle his hair. “Happy birthday, smartass.”

“I hate you,” Loki spits out, but no, he doesn’t hate Thor. Not really. Not when he can see it now, not when he’s already so familiar with the depth of Thor’s love that it’s almost impossible to hide away from its force and just  _not_ accept the affection.

By all means, Loki is lucky enough to have Thor by his side. And as they watch the snow fall from the sky and kiss their frost-bitten fingers, Loki eases his mind and lets the December breeze soothe his aches away.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No summary because this chapter is pretty much the climax.
> 
> Also, I forgot to include the epilogue in the chapter count, so instead of 15 chapters, there will be 16 chapters in total. We're very close to the end!
> 
> Hold on tight.

 

Thor gets the call two days later.

With the sky still dimmed outside the dorm windows, it’s almost impossible to make out the faint scarlet surfacing just above the horizon. His phone blares loudly somewhere beneath the sheets, causing Thor to jerk and groan into the duvet against his jaw. With a sore arm he blindly reaches across the bed, fishing for the damn phone, and presses the device against his ear to speak to whoever it is on the other line.

He hears only three words. Just three words that are spoken with an unmistakable combination of grey shades of fear and distress:

 _Your brother collapsed._  

He’s never driven out of the campus parking lot that quick before, and he does so with his own heart racing as he struggles to grip the steering wheel loosely enough that he would not get himself into a potential accident.

 _He’s stabilized for now,_ Sigyn had told him through the phone,  _but his attack had been very different this time._  The nurse apparently called their parents the second Loki has been given a new round of medication. Thor can’t help himself; he grips the wheel tighter and slams his foot on the accelerator, wondering just how? _How?_  Just two days ago, Thor was in the garden with Loki, watching the snow and spending the rest of the hour envisioning the future.

This isn’t what he asked for.

When Thor arrives at the hospital, he’s running under the snowfall in the parking lot and barging into Loki’s room with trembling hands. Right there, in the center of the room, are his parents squeezed into each others’ arms, frowning down at the bed where Loki lies… smiling. _Managing_  a smile. His eyes lifting up from a spot on the opposite wall to look into Thor’s direction with so much exhaustion across his features.

It crushes Thor’s heart with so much force.

“What happened?” He rushes to Loki’s side, brushing past his parents. “Are you in pain?”

But Loki…. oh god. Loki only _laughs_ , soft and bubbly all the same, low and quiet enough that Thor suspects the scratch in his brother’s throat, thinks about the dreadful amount of _energy_  it must cost to produce a sound like that.

Then Loki smiles at him again, sincere enough for the pain hidden in the way his eyes droop.

“You smell horrible, Thor.”

Thor promises not to break down in front of his family. Not now, not when Loki is on the bed with an expression that almost _terrifies_  Thor. Not when the smile on Loki’s pale, __pale__  face looks almost _wrong_  and out of place in some kind of tragic way.

Thor turns to his parents for help, finds Odin sporting a frown while Frigga is still visibly sobbing into his neck.

“Dad,” Thor croaks, losing his voice. “What’s going on?”

As if on cue, someone raps on the door. They all turn around to catch Dr. Heimdall enter with a clipboard pressed to his side. The man is here to reveal some news, to talk to the family about the news he's just disclosed, to lead them into all sorts of worry and anxiety and Thor... Thor is _not_ ready. He's not ready to remember the day of the overdose. He's not ready to look at Loki and understand nothing once again.

He's not ready to not know anything, to be left picking up the pieces and hoping he could solve the mystery without the comfort of Loki's wisdom walking him through the problem.

And when he studies the frown Dr. Heimdall is sporting, Thor decides that he's not strong enough for anything.

“Loki suffered from a heart attack,” Dr. Heimdall discloses. “Myocardial infarction. It’s nothing like the attacks he’s had before. Oxygen that should have entered his heart has been blocked by the swollen heart muscle.”

Thor draws a sharp breath. Next to him, Loki tenses on the bed but doesn’t move. Thor hopes his brother wouldn’t try to appear so strong at this point. He himself is barely holding on, he wishes Loki could just let go of his walls too.

Frigga doesn’t say anything, but it’s apparent that she’s still too taken aback from the information to speak. Fortunately, Odin has no problem with holding back in front of his long-time friend. “What does that mean?”

“It means…” Dr. Heimdall doesn't finish.

Thor pauses to listen. The doctor himself sounds hesitant, but he should _not_ be. Please, whatever it is you’re going to say, let’s just fucking have it out in the air.

“Odin,” Dr. Heimdall says with a frown, and Thor holds his breath for the bomb the doctor is going to drop. Sighs resonate in the room, filling the corners of Thor's head. “Your son is in need of a heart transplant.”

_Fuck._

Thor doesn’t dare look at Frigga, or Odin, or Loki. It’s a huge blow across his face, one that Thor doesn’t expect to hit him so hard, unexpected, and brutally. But it _does _.__ Oh, it fucking does. Loki needs a new heart, but _how _—__

“He’ll be on the waiting list then,” Odin says, his voice evidently controlled. But Thor is no fool. Odin is _trembling_  under the facade. “If he’s on the waiting list, there will be donors, I assume. Available ones, suitable matches." 

Thor is no fool indeed, so when he hears those words tumble from Odin’s mouth, he also hears the blatant _optimism_ in those words.

And optimism has never been entirely harmless.

“That’s my next problem,” Dr. Heimdall says. “Loki’s transplantation cannot wait. And though there _are_  potential donors out there, they are not in this hospital and they are not compatible with Loki’s blood type, which is AB negative.”

“Doctor, please,” Frigga speaks up for the first time in a while. “Tell us what we must do.”

Thor hasn’t stopped holding his breath. There are sirens ringing straight into his ears, telling him to shut himself, close his eyes and continue feigning. _Don’t be ridiculous and hold your chin up_. He’s not strong enough for this.

“We have very little options left,” Dr. Heimdall admits, peering at his hands before sighing, almost sounding guilty. “The need for your son’s transplant is immediate, but the criteria of choosing the perfect donor has proved difficult to follow, because to remove Loki’s heart is to replace it with another that is strong and healthy enough. Unfortunately, there simply isn’t a compatible donor heart that's available and close by.”

That’s the last blow. Thor doesn’t know what to say, what to _think_ , how to process the sting of the truth that they’re running out of options, that they’re not even given that much to begin with.

“But there are alternatives?” Odin asks, his voice laced thickly with hope.

_Please._

“Though circumstances would seem difficult for you to digest, I assure you that there  _is_ still a way.” Dr. Heimdall draws a sigh before dropping his gaze. “The surgical team has decided on consulting the family for a voluntary donation.”

Loki goes completely rigid beside Thor.

“What?” Frigga asks, gaping. “How will that be possible?”

“There will be two transplants in the procedure; one from a foreign donor to you, and one from your family to replace Loki’s.”

Thor’s brows furrow together when his eyes fall to his lap. A fucking _heart_  transplant… from _them _.__

“It will be hard to understand the procedure, but the whole surgical team agrees that the operation is distinctly possible.” Dr. Heimdall scans the room, this time with a more optimistic glint in his eyes. “One of you must donate to Loki, and in turn, you’ll receive a heart from another donor patient.”

“But my blood type is not AB negative,” Frigga says, her voice breaking mid-sentence.

“I’ll do it,” Odin cuts in, and Thor silently shudders at the fear he hears buried underneath those words. “Heimdall, I _beg_  of you. I will donate to my son. When does the operation take place?”

_Dad, please… don’t _.__

He can’t look at Loki. He can’t, he _can’t _.__

Thor is not strong enough.

“There would be… complications,” Dr. Heimdall says, the gravity of his words weighing down on Thor’s chest. When Thor takes in the sight of the doctor, he’s surprised to see sympathy in his eyes. “I’m afraid Loki needs a relatively young heart for a direct match. You cannot donate, Odin. An experienced heart would be far too dangerous for a young chest.”

All eyes turn to Thor except Loki’s. His brother doesn’t look at him.

“My son,” Frigga starts, but she’s not addressing Thor. Her eyes are on Heimdall. “You’re telling us that instead of _us_ donating, it has to be _Thor_?”

She sounds frantic with worry instead of dismayed.

Dr. Heimdall nods. “We cannot risk a gender-mismatch between the donor and the recipient, and Odin’s heart has been working for so long. This is our last chance for an immediate _and_  effective operation,” then he turns to Thor. “You would prove a fitting donor for your brother.”

“You dare _encourage_ him?” Loki spits at the doctor, and Thor freezes in his seat. It’s the first time Loki has spoken in a while.

“Lo, please, just—” Thor cuts himself off with a sigh, pulling at the ends of his hair in sheer frustration. Loki turns to him wide-eyed, almost disbelieving. Thor forces himself to ignore the anger in Loki’s eyes and turns to the doctor. “What do I need to do?” 

_You’re not strong enough for this, Odinson._

“There will be a chest x-ray scheduled for you in an hour,” Dr. Heimdall explains, “followed by an echo-cardiogram to monitor your heart’s pumping mechanism, and a couple of other tests to ensure that your heart is in the condition we need.”

Thor swallows audibly, pointedly dodging the look his parents are giving him, wills himself to ignore the strength of his own heart as it pounds against his rib-cage as if wanting to escape. “And if the results come out alright, will I be able to donate?”

“Thor,” Loki warns. “Stop talking, please.”

“But Loki—” 

“Don’t,” Loki snaps, sharp and biting. “Shut the _fuck_  up, Thor.” Then he breaks apart right there, right in front of everyone, and Thor can’t help but reach out to hold Loki’s wrist only to be shoved away by his brother whose obvious traces of tears are running down his hollow cheeks. “Don’t make this harder for me.”

“Loki,” Thor whispers, already shattering inside, finds himself torn between recognizing the fear in Loki’s voice and doing whatever it takes just to save him. It’s just one word, _one_  word, but Loki turns away from him and stares at the wall as if he’s avoiding Thor’s touch. Thor sighs, sniffling under his breath and turning to his parents before conjuring all the courage he could possibly muster. “I’ll do it.”

Somewhere behind his head, he could hear Loki sobbing.

“Thor,” Odin calls out. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. I would donate to your brother with all my sincerity. I _want_ to. Just say the word, son, and I’ll gladly take your place.”

“You _can’t_  donate, dad. It’s far too dangerous.” Thor could see the frustration building up behind Odin’s eyes, but what can his father do? It’s just not worth it. It _has_ to be Thor. It has to be.

Odin and Frigga rush to Loki’s side but they both keep a hand around Thor’s arm. When Dr. Heimdall speaks again, he’s addressing Thor.

“If the tests come out positive for transplantation, then I believe there’s nothing much to worry about.” Then he turns to Loki, who still refuses to look at anyone save for the wall. “Your brother’s heart already directly matches with yours in terms of gender, age, and blood group. The rest of the process will not be complicated.”

Odin peers at the man. “Since Thor will be the one donating, will the procedure still have complications?”

Dr. Heimdall visibly pauses at that. Thor returns to holding his breath. 

“The procedure itself is not a problem, but there are… _risks _,__  however, for the donor.” The doctor’s eyes flash to Thor’s. “Once you give up your heart for your brother, you’ll be given a new one from another donor in this hospital. But seeing as the search for a perfectly compatible heart is rushed, we cannot expect a direct match for you.”

“Risks,” echoes Thor, swallowing the lump in his throat. “What kinds of risks?”

“The heart you will receive is foreign to your body,” Dr. Heimdall explains, “and because of this, pre-existing donor-specific antibodies might begin to reject the organ, but you will be given immunosuppressive drugs to prevent this from happening. These drugs, however, also increase the chance for infection, and if the drugs we give you fail to work, then you’re looking at the potential development of cancer cells and an unfortunate case of transplanted organ rejection.”

Thor has been wrong all along. _This_ is the final blow. When he lets those words sink in, he realizes that he’s not even strong enough to process them just yet. His hands are curled over each other on his lap, and he refuses to move because he’s… overwhelmed. How did they even get to this?

For once, he blocks the sounds of the world from his ears. Gone are the held-back sobs from Frigga, the audible sighs from his father’s clasped lips. When Thor closes his eyes, he imagines the rain splattering against the windows when he was still a child, peering over the glass panels to watch the grass get soaked underneath the troubled sky. 

_Even if the storm has already captured you, I will always stay by your side._

He’s overwhelmed, so very overwhelmed at everything that weighs on his chest. Thor doesn’t say anything, finds himself unable to formulate the words, but when he turns around slowly and searches for Loki’s red-rimmed eyes that speak volumes of his own fear, it's only when Thor finally begins to _understand _.__

“It’s okay,” he says, voice breaking. Thor isn’t certain whether he’s talking to his brother or the doctor, but it doesn’t matter and he doesn’t care. Despite the fear plaguing his head, Thor manages a weak smile. “I can do this. It’s okay.”

When Dr. Heimdall finally leaves the room with the promise of a scheduled appointment, Odin brings Thor outside to talk.

“It should be me,” he tells Thor when the door clicks shut behind them, his voice laced with regret and an edge of frustration. “It should be me who's doing this for your brother. It angers me beyond reason that I cannot do anything but regret my mistakes. I should be _helping._ ”

Thor doesn’t say anything to that because at this point, none of his useless words will help ease the situation. “I never realized it was this bad.”

“Your brother hides so much from you, and you understand so little about him.”

Sad as it is, it’s still the truth.

“I wish I’d seen this coming," Thor says. "If I did, I would have done so much more. Think about how better it would be if I was the one on the bed and it’s Loki fighting to get my ass of here.”

“Thor.” Odin reaches for his wrist. “Are you certain about the donation?”

Thor pulls away and sniffles because just for a fraction of a second, he realizes he doesn’t even know, he _doesn’t_ know. He’s not even certain himself, but he’s right here, nodding his head, pretending that he’s strong enough to save his own brother because—”

“How is that even a question, dad?” Thor croaks, shaking his head at a far wall. When the tears come, they burn his skin. “I feel like the world’s worst fucking brother because Loki is on that bed with a weak heart, and I’m playing football in college.” He pauses to catch his breath. “Dad, I don’t want to see Loki going through this.”

Then there are arms snaking around his chest from behind, warmer ones with smoother palms that tighten around him. Thor whirls around to see Frigga sporting a frown.

“We’ll get through this,” she tells him, and for a few stolen seconds, Thor’s fear dissipates into thin air. “We’ll be okay.”

****…****

When the door opens, Loki is quick to face the window and hide his face from Thor’s view. “I have nothing to say to you.”

“Did I do something wrong again?” Thor sighs behind him. “Look, I don’t care whether you believe me or not but I’m losing my head over this. We can’t just _not_ talk about this Loki. It’s a fucking  _transplant_.”

“Which is exactly why I’d hate to talk about this now.”

This time, Loki faces his brother with all the strength left within him. The moment he sees the frown plastered across Thor’s face, he knows he’s made a mistake.

“Loki, fuck.” Thor breathes deeply and brings a hand to his jaw. “Please. I don’t know what to think.”

Loki’s expression hardens. Does Thor think he’s feeling any better about this? Loki scowls as he takes in the sight of his brother’s displayed frustration. It’s not easy. None of this is fucking easy. 

_Please Thor, not now, because the longer I see your face, the harder it is to accept that you’ll be laying down your own perfect life for me._

“Lo,” Thor whispers, slowly approaching the bed. “Talk to me.”

A tear escapes again.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Loki snaps, angrily wiping at his eye as if the mere thought of crying _insults_  him. “Get out of here, Thor. I don’t want to see you.” 

_Just stay, Thor._

“Loki—" 

_But please… save yourself._

“Get the fuck out of here!”

The tears don’t stop, and his breaths come shorter and quicker, small puffs of air escaping his lips as they quiver from the fury shaking his whole body. Loki looks up, sees his brother shut his eyes and turn away. When Thor opens his eyes, he looks conflicted and hesitant.

Loki whispers one more time just to prove his desperation, but he’s never been so earnest before. “Please, Thor. Get out of here.”

Thor hesitates for a short span of seconds before approaching him and pressing Loki's head underneath his chin. Loki leans into his brother’s arms, chases the temporary warmth, and breaks apart inside when the ghost of Thor’s comfort sears his skin and _burns_.

Thor leaves the room with a hand over his face.

“Fuck,” Loki curses, curling into himself and bearing the weight of Thor’s desperation. His eyes dart around the room, landing on the face of Saint Jude. Damn that arrogant priest. With a breath, Loki grabs the small figurine and throws it straight to the wall.

****…****

Thor doesn’t think about it.

He goes through those tests which Dr. Heimdall mentioned to him an hour ago. Sigyn, who’s oddly generous enough to offer to assist the doctor during the procedure for whatever reason, performs her assigned task of placing sticky patches across Thor’s chest which would read the activity of his heart and transmit the information into the EKG.

The nurse doesn’t even try to hide the looks she keeps sending Thor. For the first couple of times, Thor settles on ignoring her, paying no heed to the curiosity oozing from her face. Five minutes into the procedure, however, pretending not to notice her persistent lingering turns into a burden that challenges Thor's patience.

“Is there something on my face?” he snaps.

Sigyn, meanwhile, grabs a pair of gloves and spreads a cold substance over Thor’s chest.

“Careful,” Thor rushes out with a hiss. “What are you doing?”

“Calm down, Thor. It’s just gel.” When he does, Sigyn throws him another look and lifts a brow. “He’s mad at you, isn’t he.”

It’s not even phrased as a question.

Thor huffs but doesn’t ignore her. “You people are too nosy, you know?”

“So he’s mad at you, then.” A soft buzzing fills the room as Sigyn presses a small device over his chest, moving back and forth to spread the gel. “I do fancy telling you something. Your brother can’t get mad at you, not for this. He’s just terrified of the possibilities.”

“Thanks, but I’m not stupid,” Thor grumbles, squinting at the nurse. “Why are you even telling me this? You don’t look like the person who sticks their nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“You’re even denser than I took you for.” Sigyn shakes her head at him and wipes the gel from Thor’s chest with a towel. “I said,” she continues, giving him a firm look, “he’s just terrified of the possibilities.”

When Thor leaves the hospital that morning, he evades his parent’s request to go home for very specific reasons and drives back into the dorms instead to prepare for finals, hoping that these worries would vanish from his mind by then. 

But when he’s eleven paragraphs into the last chapter he and Loki had discussed, those worries slip back into his mind like they refuse to offer him the slightest chance at peace. Thor tosses and turns in his bed while also dropping the papers onto the floor in the process.

Fucking hell.

He’s losing his head over market trades and limits of functions and the numerous scenarios that might just potentially happen when one person undergoes a fucking _heart_  transplant.

At some point into the night, Thor contemplates calling Loki just to ask if he’s recovered from the attack, if he’s already grown calm enough to have processed the information and accept whatever it is that they’re going to bring themselves into. Thor wants to ask him if he's optimistic like their mother tries to be, or if Loki is actually addressing his own fears just like Sigyn had suggested.

The thought of his brother doing the latter fucks Thor’s head up until he could barely recall the formulas he’s recently studied just hours ago.

“Thor,” Professor Selvig says the next day, when the lecture hall is buzzing with chattering college students who are either stressing over finals in Calculus which would begin in ten minutes, or lounging in their seat as if the test questionnaires Professor Selvig will be distributing in the next couple of minutes would not determine their chance of ever having a future. 

Thor has decided to occupy a seat in the back, but whatever plan he has on ignoring everyone who _dares_  to speak three feet into his space sadly dissolves into stolen chances when the Calculus professor rounds him. “Are you sure you want to take the test today?”

Thor lifts a brow. “It’s not like I have a choice.”

“In your _case,_ ” the professor gestures vaguely at him, referencing to what Thor thinks he's referencing, “you get a choice, Thor. You always do.”

Thor’s expression gives away the fact that even he himself is slightly taken aback. “I’m fine, professor. I can handle the test.”

For a moment, Professor Selvig studies him as if trying to find the fault in Thor's excuses. Then he nods stiffly and starts retreating from Thor's space. “Whatever you say, kid. Good luck.”

The test goes as expected. Thirty minutes in and Thor is chewing on his nails, biting his lip as if to stop his mind from going to places he would rather not be in at the moment. He manages to recall a few encouraging words that once drove him into trying to focus harder, but the more Thor thinks about those words, the more he realizes that he could only go so far before he’s failing, falling, tumbling into the dark corners of his mind where nothing else exists save for the void of his fears.

When Thor submits the test questionnaires to his professor, he ignores the small frown Professor Selvig flashes him.

Economics finals goes swimmingly so far. Like a well-oiled machine, Thor’s mind soars into blocks and blocks of paragraphs he’s blessed enough to remember. Thor manages to direct his focus on his work, motivated by the promise of satisfactory credits once he gets the test results that would eventually reveal whether he’s fit to graduate or not.

Towards the end of the hour, Thor finds an obvious wet patch soaking his paper. He's fucking _tearing_ up.

“Thor.” Something jabs into the leg of his chair which sends him jerking forward. “Thor, are you alright?”

He recognizes Sif's voice a second too late. She's kicking his chair right behind as if the room is not drowning in complete silence, and if she keeps this up, the proctor is going to call them out, but Thor just can’t let that happen. He refuses to let Sif see him like this.

In a haste, Thor grabs his answer sheet and collects his belongings before scrambling towards the proctor’s desk to submit his test. He could briefly make out the sound of another chair scraping against the tiles, and Thor rushes towards the exit before Sif could even follow him from behind.

The route towards the bleachers covers a stretch of distance, but Thor breathes through the rush and yearns for a second of utter silence in hopes of stopping his brain from recalling his brother’s face, his brother’s anger, and his brother's scowl when he asked Thor to leave.

Thor breathes despite the weight crushing his chest. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t think about stopping, doesn’t will himself to fight his tears when he finally falls to the grass and weeps.

_Don't make this harder for me._

“Thor,” comes Sif’s voice. “Talk to us, please.”

Another string of voices enters his hearing range. Thor drowns them out, ignores the distress in Sif’s voice as she instructs Fandral and Volstagg to heft Thor onto his feet.

He doesn’t budge. For the first time in his life, Thor breaks apart in front of his friends, no longer caring whether they catch a glimpse of his wounds that only seem to ache and grow deeper. He falls into Volstagg’s bulk but doesn’t thrash around when his other two friends anchor him to the ground. Whatever it is that lies underneath his chest… it’s too much to hold back. He’s not strong enough. He can no longer keep up with his own pretense.

The snow taints his cheek, and as his tears fall into the cotton of Volstagg’s sweater, Thor closes his eyes and lets the chill freeze his heart.

**…**

“I hear you’re in need of a transplant.”

Loki’s head snaps into the direction of the sound, his eyes widening in genuine surprise when he sees the visitor for the day. “How did you get in here?”

Hela is every bit of the businesswoman Odin has once depicted in one of his and Loki’s previous talks. Clad in rich emerald polyester that drapes over her shoulders and cuts short just above her knee, jet black strands tucked behind her ears to showcase the length of her hair as it levels with her collarbones. Loki rakes his eyes over the sight of this woman—a _sibling_  of his own he has yet to be acquainted with—and recalls the very first time he’s seen her face in Thor’s phone together with the documents.

“That nurse seems far too easy,” answers Hela, shutting the door behind her, “but she’s stubborn as a mule upon restricting access into your ward, I’d give her that.”

Loki sets his laptop aside and watches his sister settle around. “You must be Hela.”

“So you recognized me at first glance, I’m glad.” She occupies the couch and gestures vaguely to herself. “Surely my presence is welcome?”

“Dad would be certainly horrified to know that you’re here.”

“Is that so?”

Loki pointedly shrugs. “Your visit is rather unexpected.”

“Oh, darling,” Hela says with a grin, “Odin always wondered if I had some time to spare for a visit. This was his idea, no reason to worry.”

“And you agreed?”

“Why shouldn’t I?” Hela crinkles her nose, waving a hand dismissively. “Dad and I have been talking, you know. And I assure you, I’ve heard a lot of the new family history.” 

Loki could only get so far into studying the way Hela speaks before concluding that his sister is very much outspoken in her bitterness. A well-formulated vocabulary, one that neither drops hints of her intentions nor gives away the reason she’s even _talking_  to him.

“Though, I should tell you,” Hela continues, “I’ve held my grudges against him in the past; surely one would find that obvious. But it was a wayward situation. Odin leaving me as a child only gave me the opportunity to outmatch his ego, and a chance to… _reenter_ his life in better spirits.”

“Has it truly been so easy? Forgiving him for what he’s done?” Loki asks just to sate his curiosity. His eyes fall over the firmness of Hela’s posture before clearing his throat. “A part of me suspects that the negligence you had to endure eventually shaped you into someone more… audacious.”

Hela laughs in what could be surprise. “A perceptive one, are you?” She quirks a brow, her voice lilting with amusement, “We would have understood each other so well, brother dear.” 

 _Quick to drop a nickname_ , Loki observes, tracing Hela’s every movement and choice of words. “Best not to look back in the past, then.”

Hela accuses with a smirk, “Afraid to recall our similar impediments?”

“Oh, not at all,” Loki says. “Let’s just say that dad is now turning over a new leaf and I’m simply letting him.”

“Sounds rather reckless of you.”

Loki’s expression hardens. “You don’t even know me.”

“I could throw guesses,” Hela says with a grin before straightening her posture against the couch. “Tell me, has he been treating you better?”

Loki crosses his arms. “He’s been trying.”

“I suppose that’s not enough for you.” 

_Is it?_

“I don’t know,” Loki admits, surprised with his own honesty. Strangely, he finds no sign of judgement when peers at Hela’s face. “I have plenty on my plate right now to even bother… given the immediate transplant and whatnot.”

“They’re asking Thor to donate,” Hela says without so much as hesitance, forcing Loki scoff at her bluntness and turn away from her knowing gaze.

It’s the first time Thor’s name surfaces in their conversation.

He doesn’t think about Thor. His throat begins to tighten around the words. If Hela notices him shifting underneath the pool of sheets, she definitely seizes the chance to point it out.

Hela lifts both legs up and stretches them across the couch, appearing far too comfortable in her seat. There’s another pause before she hums. “Thor agreed to donate, but you don’t want him to.”

The understanding lacing her tone steals Loki’s breath away.

When Loki wills himself to look at her, he’s forced to slow his breathing down. Hela, his biological _sister_ from another woman, wholesome despite the horrors of her unforgettable experience as a child, sharp-witted as she is and almost no different from Loki’s guarded nature himself, is right here, testing the strength of Loki’s gaze, speaking plainly of Loki’s biggest fear that continues to consume him thoroughly, an unease that plagues his eyes into welling up and his body into quivering beyond control.

This woman right here, the stranger that she is, is every bit of the sister Loki has managed to know of. She responds to him like no other, reads between his words as well as the signals of wariness on his face, and _understands_  him through and through without ever raising a question.

In another life, Loki believes that both of them would get along so well.

“I don’t understand,” he says, his voice cracking. “Why can’t they just wait until someone else from this hospital voluntarily consents to the transplant?”

He’s not stupid, he knows why. Loki just needs to hear it from someone else.

“Oh, I’ve been there darling,” Hela says. “Waiting around for bone marrow donations, nearly giving in to cancer when the transplant just couldn’t get any quicker. I’ve gone through that torture before, so believe me when I say that you must take _every_ chance you get.” 

“You crazy woman,” Loki scoffs, disbelieving. “Would you mind listening to yourself? You’re talking about _Thor_ , your own fucking blood. Of all people, it has to be Thor’s, but why?”

His pulse grows quicker. Loki clamps a hand over his chest, ignores how Hela’s eyes follow the movement.

“Brother, I’ve struggled the second I was born,” she begins, “I’ve had machines pinning me down, nurses waking me every hour to see if I was still breathing. I was a day away from death, but I managed to survive. Odin left me, but I raised myself well without him. I don’t have children, but I’ve had a good life.”

Loki blinks and turns to his sister. Hela isn’t smiling, but it’s enough. It’s _enough_.

“I agreed to reach out, to learn of these two young men whom I’ve never met before,” she continues. “One of them is going through what I’ve surpassed in my childhood, and even though we are not so familiar with each other, I still refuse to see them endure the pain all by themselves.”

“Why did you come here?” Loki finally asks, releasing the breath he’s been holding, forcing himself to acknowledge the look he does not recognize in Hela’s eyes. “Why would you _visit_  me?”

“Loki, I would give you mine,” Hela tells him, surprisingly earnest, “but I’m not who the doctors are asking for. It _has_ to be Thor.”

The dam breaks. Loki lets his walls crash to his feet when the truth in his sister’s words hit. He squeezes his eyes to surrender and Hela stalks closer to place a hand over his knee as if to say _you’re not alone _.__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out my recently published one-shot entitled ["hourglass"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19396234) if you'd like! It's post-ragnarok :)


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They cope. Or they try to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now this... this is where things begin to wrap up. When I first wrote the outline of this story, the revelation of the transplant has been one of the most vital parts in the plot. So I hope this delivers well.
> 
> This is the last chapter before the epilogue. I hope you guys will stick around until the end. I look forward to thanking every single one of you :)
> 
> Now, enjoy :)

 

“Can I ask you something?”

The armband around his biceps tightens the moment he voices his question. Loki winces at the sudden pressure but doesn’t say anything to Sigyn who continues to secure the armband over the skin. “Sorry,” Sigyn says, throwing him a quick look. “What is it?”

The layer of snow piling above the window’s rim has thickened overnight. Just yesterday after his whole family sulked in the space of his room, Loki had spent a good span of time studying how the flakes easily collected against the glass panels. Now though, as he studies the rich contrast of the sky from the snow perched by the glass, he’s overcome once again by the melancholic memories from yesterday.

A part of him barely remembers waking up in the crack of dawn to claw at the sheets and double over as he chases a lungful of air. That image alone has been intentionally overlooked, shoved into the back of his head without even meaning to all because he couldn’t keep his mind from racing at the echo of Dr. Heimdall’s words.

He needs a new heart. Among all the episodes he’s suffered as a child to those which he’s been going through now, every single second of those attacks has only led to this specific revelation: A need for a new heart, a solution for a dire problem that _should_  be simple enough to solve. It’s just a new heart. There are donors out there in the country, donors who Loki doesn’t know personally, donors that have _intentionally_  signed a contract to donate their organs once needed, donors that would willingly offer themselves to ill patients like him without any complications.

Bottomline is there _are_  other options, but they don’t have enough time for a thorough search among other donors with whom Loki could match, and the transplant must be performed as soon as the donor's heart is provided.

And to fix the problem, Thor has offered to undergo a transplant himself to donate his own heart to Loki.

Loki is always met with a pang of guilt whenever he thinks about the operation.

“Why does it have to be Thor’s?” he asks, startling the nurse as she looks up from where she’s inflating the armband around him. Loki ignores the sympathy in her eyes. It pierces him deep, searing and sudden. He could look away, but he doesn't.

“Oh, sweetie.” Sigyn removes the armband with a sigh and gently occupies the edge of the mattress to sit. “Your brother’s heart is the most sufficient replacement out there, and he’s the only available donor who would not have to go through any aerial transportation for us to retrieve.”

“He’s not even a donor,” Loki argues, breathless in an instant. He’s grown a lot weaker recently. “What about the other donors in this hospital? Aren't you supposed to have lists of those?”

“Donors don’t just come and ago, Loki. There's a significant number of donor hearts, but in order to reduce the risks, considering the donor-recipient compatibility regarding blood group, age, and sex is a vital part of the selection process. They _have_ to be a direct match with yours as well.”

“There has to be another way,” Loki whispers, a soft brush of words just under his breath, a subtle plea to an authority of the hospital who’s been a friend to him for the past month. Surely he doesn’t have to drag his brother into this exploit of salvaging his own life. Surely Thor doesn’t have to sacrifice himself and end up nursing the warned possibility of transplanted organ rejection.

But Sigyn only grabs Loki’s hand, and from the pressure of her fingers, Loki understands _exactly_ how wrong he is.

“Is this what you meant before?” he asks, accepting defeat. “That day when I asked you if I _could_  get worse... were you expecting anything like this?”

Sigyn’s hand squeezes him tighter.

“You know, you’ve always been unpredictable,” she says, “I knew that since the day you were rushed into the ER. But here’s the thing: you’ve never been transparent. Not really. I know you’re afraid, but your brother is strong, Loki. Stronger than you know.”

In response, Loki squeezes back weakly.

“He’s doing this for you,” Sigyn says with a small smile, “so do this for him as well. Show him that you’re strong in every way he knows.”

When Sigyn finally leaves him alone, Loki crawls into the sheets and thinks about Thor. The snow continues to collect over the rim of the window until he’s yawning and succumbing to a deep dreamless slumber.

**...**

The snow alights on the skin of his cheeks, soft and crisp cold all the same yet Thor does not move from his spot above the grass.

_A_ _couple more minutes_ , he tells himself, followed by a more insistent thought of _another hour perhaps_ whenever he contemplates between leaving the field or neglecting his body’s yearning for warmth to let himself freeze underneath the night sky with the wind metaphorically brushing the ache from his chest.

It’s been two hours.

Two hours of watching the night crawl into the early dawn while he lies unfazed on the field, two hours of listening to his heart thrum beneath his chest where’s placed a hand to reassure himself of his own still existent pulse.

His phone lies in his other hand, untouched so far that its screen remains displaying Loki’s name and the dial beneath it. Just an hour ago, Thor had promised to press the green button to reach out to his brother. Just an hour ago, Thor had also dropped his phone on his lap and never bothered calling.

_You dare encourage him?_

Those words hit Thor like a train wreck. He hasn’t heard his brother speak with such an incensed tone especially to anyone of authority, yet Loki had spoken against his own physician at the suggestion of Thor's name for the donation. In some strange way, it overwhelms Thor with guilt; the way Loki’s ears had turned red whenever he spoke, the way his eyes had bored into Thor’s when he threw a plea for him to stop talking.

Thor knows that this must be hard for his brother as well. Yesterday, when he had entered the room in hopes of voicing his own worries, Loki actually turned him down, asking him to leave because he wished for some time alone, but with Sigyn’s encouragement, Thor began to understand just why Loki himself is also apparently adamant to speak to him about the sole elephant in the room.

Somewhere in Thor's head, there’s a voice pleading him to man up and finally _talk_ to his brother, but it’s as if Thor is trying to move his limbs through the surging current of the sea, and he’s _unable_ to, because apart from the fear of not making it towards the shore, there’s also the unmistakable fear of drowning.

Thor stares at the grass and stops.

One blink and he’s back on the shore on the night of Loki’s seventh birthday, sticking his sock-clad foot into the sand with a lack of anything better to do. The wind that sweeps across his cheek is enough to set his own body tingling, but the shoes around his feet are far too tight that he has to remove them despite not wanting to walk around the beach barefoot.

Besides, it’s not like he’s wandering around the area. Just a couple of minutes ago, Loki had run to the water for a quick dip while also leaving Thor with the responsibility to look over him while their parents are still in the beach house. So Thor lies there on the grass, watching the waves crash over each other, kissing the shore as they crawl toward his frostbitten toes.

Another blink and he hears Loki’s shrilling voice across the water.

Thor is jumping into the waves with the building sense of panic and cutting through the current that refuses to let him through, but Loki’s voice is the only sound he could make out in between the loud crash of the water behind him. The air grows colder around his shoulders, but Thor swims despite his limbs aching, taking a lungful of air whenever he resurfaces because the moment he hauls his brother from the water and saves him from drowning, he could do nothing but scream inside from the fear.

One last blink and he’s back on the grass, his vision readjusting to recognize the thick blanket of white covering the bleachers down to the last step. With a breath, Thor pulls himself onto his feet, blinking as the dusty illusions of the stadium lights sit heavy on his eyelashes.

Fluttering his eyes shut, Thor kicks the snow piling over the turf with a frustrated growl.

His body shakes violently as he does so, every muscle of his limbs fighting through the exhaustion that’s quickly taking over his senses. Thor releases half-suppressed sounds from his affliction, abusing the strength of his leg as he kicks into the pile of snow, forcing them to scatter on the grass and eventually dropping to his knees when he could no longer move a muscle.

_Heart attacks happen a lot._

At the memory of Sigyn’s words, Thor buries his tears into his sleeve. The more he thinks about the upcoming operation, the emptier he feels deep down.

_But you’re very much lucky if you survive one._

****…****  

The door creaks when Thor enters. He’s shivering from head to toe due to the snow but he does his best to pad quietly across the room until he’s safely sat on the chair next to Loki’s bed.

It’s at three in the morning that he visits the hospital. Sigyn, the saint she is, had allowed him to enter the room without being caught by the hospital security. Now he’s here with his heart on his sleeve, dreading the moment his words would bring the worst of him, and taking equal, steady breaths while he watches his brother sleep.

Only half of Loki’s face is being covered by the duvet. There are dark circles underneath his eyes which are tightly sealed, his thick lashes fanning over his eyelids with their ends curling upwards the slightest. Thor savors the rare moment of his brother looking so untroubled, and with another gush of air, he reaches out and touches his brother’s wrist.

Loki stirs on the bed from the movement, his eyes slowly fluttering open. Thor watches him, studies every detail. At some point, he's managed to grow grateful for every breath he's able to inhale. As Thor witnesses the simple mechanism of his brother waking up, he can't help but imagine just how heartbreaking it would be to not be able to wake up one day.

“We can’t lose you, Lo,” Thor whispers, the words sharp and clear in the air, his hand gradually tightening around Loki’s wrist. “I’m not going to make it.”

For a second, the silence between them stretches. Thor watches and continues watching, fascinated by the sight of Loki's chest rising and falling, by the trace of blood flowing through the IV tubes inserted into Loki's hand. Every inch of his brother is screaming  _alive_ , and Thor hopes to keep it that way.

“I hate you,” Loki whispers, his own hand reaching out to search for Thor’s other arm. Thor sucks in another breath, willing himself to fight the tears.

“I know,” he says.

The pale hand around him tightens. “Thor, please don’t do this.”

Another breath. “Then I’d be the worst brother.”

This time, Loki tugs at his arm, and when Thor focuses on his brother’s face despite the darkness, he could see tears shimmering in Loki’s eyes.

“You already are.”

Thor winces at those words. He knows they’re not true, but it’s the irony that makes him think back and realize just how hard those words hit. If Thor goes through the operation, he does it because he wants to help his brother. But Loki is right here in front of him with the very proof of his resistance, tugging at Thor's sleeve to tell him _no, don’t do this _.__

The first tear escapes Thor’s eye, followed by another, and another, until his walls are crashing to his feet as he could no longer fight the fear that’s weighing down on his shoulders.

“I can’t ask you to die before me.” Loki shakes his head, whispering, almost frantic, “What if the heart they give you isn’t _healthy_ enough? There are risks, Thor. What if—”

“You’re being dramatic, Lo. I’m not going to die.” Thor tries mustering a smile, but he fails because he can’t. He just _can’t _.__  “You just get to live a little longer.”

When Thor reaches out to wrap a hand around Loki's neck, his brother finally falls apart.

“I don’t want to,” Loki whispers, his eyes crinkling as tears escape. Thor holds him close, ignoring how his own heart shatters inside his chest. “I’ll despise you forever. Please don’t, Thor, _pl_ _ease_.”

Thor shakes his head. “Family means so much to me, Lo.”

Loki pulls away from Thor’s grip and thrashes against him. “I hate you, Thor. I fucking _hate_ you!”

“I know,” Thor murmurs, frowning and his chest tightening, “I love you.”

And Loki finally deflates. One pained gasp and the truth is out in the air.

“I know.”

Thor pulls him close in the same second Loki sits up to cling to his chest. With the clock ticking in the silence and their hearts thumping in equal beats, Thor savors this moment of actually having his brother close to him with nothing in between, with no grudges held against each other, and with no concealed fears to keep them apart.

Here, inside the darkness of the hospital room where Loki is still healing, Thor wishes for a tomorrow where he could see his brother’s face and think how he’s going to save him. In the years Loki has suffered from his illness, a lot of those days had been spent with Thor not knowing what it meant to be in his brother’s shoes. Those same days have already plagued Thor with deep regret.

Now though, with two operations on their path and both of their lives at risk, Thor has never been braver. As he buries his head into Loki’s hair, he thinks about how much he cares about his own family, and how much he's willing to lay down his own life for his brother.

**...**

“The results from the donor match came out positive.”

It’s not news, not to Loki at least. He’s known about the potential results since he’d caught the doctor slipping a few words with Sigyn back when the nurse had forgotten to close the door after checking his blood pressure. So when those words fill the room the moment Dr. Heimdall enters uninvited, Loki deliberately keeps his eyes trained on the window and ignores the way Thor startles from the new presence. Loki lets the conversation between the two slide.

“They did?” With enough interest in his voice, Thor stalks out from Loki’s view. The conversation on the opposite side of the room continues.

Loki ignores everything altogether. The sun has already set resolutely over the horizon but snow continues to fall. With every crystallized flake falling, Loki watches with minimal amusement.

“We’ve cleared you for the transplant, Thor. Your heart is in the very condition we require in order to replace your brother’s.”

“That’s… great. I should let our parents know.”

“We’ve also managed to match you with another donor. To be frank, the heart is still being tested for dissimilar antibodies before we authorize your surgery, but it’s safe to say that the process is running as smoothly as we could hope for.”

“The surgery will be soon then?”

“In the likeliest scenario, yes.” There’s a pause, some rustling, and the pads of shoes shuffling across the tiles. “Is he unwell?”

“What...? Oh.” Loki hears his brother pause before there’s a hand wrapping itself around his ankle. “Loki, did you hear that? We’re going through the surgery soon.”

Loki makes a noncommittal hum. The sun is higher now, its rays tainting the windows aglow. Warm and misty, the wind a caress to his skin. Loki wishes to bask in the sun and walk through the snow barefoot.

“They found me a donor, Lo,” Thor’s voice continues behind him, almost persistent. Loki imagines the breeze brushing across his temples, but the hand around his ankle pulls him back into reality. “I thought it would be longer, you know? Finding new heart for me… but they actually managed to make it work. We’re going to have the surgery soon, can you—”

Loki whirls around, lifts a hand and places it around Thor’s elbow.

Thor stops the moment Loki touches him. He scans an eye over Loki before murmuring, “You okay?” 

_Yes_ , Loki almost says, but he doesn’t because it’s a complete lie. He had just survived from a heart attack barely four days ago, his sister dropped by and made him yearn for a time in the past he which hadn't even experienced, Thor held him in his chest last night until their tears subsided, both of their lives are currently on the line, and sooner rather than later, a team of surgeons and medical residents will be slicing their chests open so they could go home, live, and continue breathing.

No, he’s not okay. And the more Loki watches the world from the window, the more he aches for a normal life despite the lengths that would cost him. But for Thor, his ever so brave older brother, Loki tries. He tries for himself, he tries for Thor.

So Loki looks up, and wills himself to bear the blinding force of Thor’s concern.

“I’m hungry.”

It comes out as a whisper. _Weaker _,__  Loki realizes. He’s getting weaker.

“That’s because you didn’t eat,” Thor says with as much fondness in his voice. Loki catches it even before his brother could speak. He always catches that tone from Thor’s eyes, from the down curve of Thor’s mouth. It never fails to amuse him. It makes Loki feel important. Dr. Heimdall no doubts witnesses the whole exchange, but Loki doesn’t care. He _doesn’t_  care.

“It’s hard to chew,” Loki explains, gesturing to the steamed protein on the table. “There’s soup in the cafeteria. If it’s alright with you—”

“Yeah, of course.” Thor’s eyes twinkle with something so familiar before he detaches from the bed. Loki watches as Thor reaches into the pocket of his jeans. “Would you rather have chicken broth or the beef one?”

“You choose,” Loki says. He knows Thor wouldn’t settle for the least. Loki trusts his brother as much.

“I’ll be back soon.” Thor ruffles Loki’s hair before sending a quick acknowledgement to the doctor and slipping out of the room.

Loki is left with a pang of guilt in his chest.

“He cares a lot,” Dr. Heimdall comments, making his presence known once again. He heads straight for the couch instead of the chair, nestling into the cushion as if he were a friend rather than a person of high authority, which is indeed an odd sight. Loki figures the doctor has learned about boundaries as of late. “And more… _expressive_  than I gave him credit for.”

Loki chuckles humorlessly. “The idiot’s even excited about it.” He pushes himself into a sitting position, which proves difficult without anyone assisting him. “When will the surgery be?”

“Tomorrow night, hopefully. Your preoperative assessment will be done by your assisting nurse first thing in the morning. Thor’s assessment, however, will begin tonight.”

Loki swallows the lump in his throat.

“We don’t have much time left, then,” he says.

“For what?” the doctor prompts, voice lacing with the slightest tinge of amusement. “You’re not going to die on the table.”

Loki agrees just as much. “And neither will Thor.”

The threat in his voice is heard loud and clear in the air where even Loki could hear it himself. He shivers from the direction of their conversation and blinks back any trace of fear in his eyes.

“You spoke of risks beforehand,” Loki begins, locking his eyes with the doctor’s. “Organ rejection and potential cancer cells development, risks my brother would be met with should you lack _finesse_  during the operation.”

“I take that you’re entirely dubious over the procedure?”

Loki ignores this. “Consider this as my lack of confidence in your abilities, doctor. Thor hasn’t had any problem to deal with until you and your associates suggested a transplant for him to agree upon. You see his face, the very proof of his hesitance. He never asked for this _burden_.” 

“You consider yourself a burden to him, then?” Dr. Heimdall shoots him a contemplative look. “If you ask your brother the same question, you’ll certainly receive a much different response."

He’s right.

“What you’re asking of him,” Loki begins, shaking his head, “you know very well that it’s not easy.”

“Indeed, it’s not,” Dr. Heimdall agrees, “but your brother agreed to the operation all the same.”

The doctor rises from his seat, and Loki sees this as a way to dismiss their conversation for which he’s silently grateful. He doesn’t say as much, but before Dr. Heimdall could get past the door, Loki raises a hand to stop him from leaving.

“Doc,” he begins, choosing his words carefully. When Loki blinks at the window one more time before holding the doctor’s gaze, the words just seem to roll off on their own. “ I ask of you... Take good care of my brother during the operation no matter _what_  it takes.”

Dr. Heimdall nods, stiff but genuine. “You have my word.”

Then he leaves the room, and Loki continues staring at the world through the window.

**...**

“The climate feels colder tonight, doesn’t it? It’s hard to remember that Christmas is just around the corner.”

Thor is only met with silence as a response but he doesn’t mind. Loki hasn’t been speaking to him for the past few hours, though it’s only understandable since they’re moving forward with the surgery tomorrow. His brother's mind is probably just occupied.

It’s five in the afternoon, the clock nearly ticking six, two hours before Thor is admitted into the Cardiac ICU. They’re strolling through the garden with Loki on the wheelchair and Thor himself gladly wheeling him along the columns of trees. The sky is receding into a faint scarlet as the sun begins to set. Flakes of snow have draped heavily on their shoulders but Thor had dressed them both in thick wool with a pair of socks. They won’t grow cold now.

With enough courage, Thor speaks to fill the silence between them.

“I’ve been thinking, you know, about your birthday. I mean, I never gave you a proper gift.”

They pass by the fountain, encountering a handicapped pair on the way. Loki’s eyes remain motionless and trained straight ahead. Thor doesn’t let this discourage him.

“Mom said I should get you something. Dad said we could travel if we want to. Surely you could guess whose suggestion I liked better.” Thor chuckles to himself, recalling the defeated but playful frown Frigga had sported. “Obviously I had to ask Sif for ideas and she told me about this place in Connecticut.”

Thor notices the movement of Loki’s hand. It shifts from the IV stand towards his knee.

“The library at Yale. Lots of books there,” Thor recalls, briefly looking back to the pictures of the said place he's found on the internet. “Maybe we could fly out once New Year is over.”

Loki raises a hand. Thor stops pushing the wheelchair and crouches down in front of his brother. They’re now parked somewhere in between two columns of trees where they’re isolated from the rest of the patients in the garden.

“What’s wrong?” Thor asks. The wind has grown colder now. Perhaps Loki wishes to head inside instead of wandering through the winter fall.

But his brother only stares at him.

“These are promises, Thor," Loki says, his eyes unblinking. "You shouldn’t say these things.”

Thor couldn’t help but frown. He knows he shouldn’t display any sign of his own concern but he just can’t help himself. Loki’s voice has become quieter and the way he speaks only proves exactly how weaker he’s gotten. Thor recovers by smiling and hoping that the hopefulness in his voice would be enough to spark some optimism in his brother.

He responds to the question by telling the truth:

“But they’re not empty promises, Lo. I want to visit that huge-ass library too.”

At those words, Loki turns away from him. Thor hangs his head low, utterly defeated. It's now or never, then.

“Loki, I gotta be honest with you,” he starts off, pausing with a sigh. “I’m scared, alright? I won’t hide that now, not from you. I keep thinking about those risks your doctor told me, but those are just _risks_ , Loki. They're not real unless they actually happen, so try to look at the bigger picture for now.”

He reaches out to place a hand over Loki’s knee. Loki ignores this, remains staring far into the trees.

“Everything will be over once we get through the surgery. No more trouble breathing. You won’t have heart attacks anymore because god knows how terrified I get whenever that happens to you.” Thor chuckles before sniffling, his own voice receding into a whisper. “Don’t you want to get better, Lo? Because I do. Mom and dad… they can’t go through these things no matter how much they want to, but I’m here to take their place.”

A breeze sweeps across their hands. Finally, _finally _,__  Loki turns to face Thor with the ghost of tears on his cheeks. 

_I swear on my life, I believe you._

“Loki, I promised you, didn’t I?” Thor whispers, his own voice breaking mid-sentence. The words are heavy on his tongue but he lets them out and murmurs them into the cold December air because they’re true. "I promised you, Lo, I _promised_ you.”

With a shaky breath, Thor takes Loki’s hands in his. “We’re in this together,” he promises. “We’re going to be okay.”

And together, they watch the sunset.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surgery, here we go!
> 
> can you believe this is almost finished :')))) because I can't


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-operation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! Our journey ends here.
> 
> If you've never commented here, or if you're just a lurker, I would love to hear your thoughts on the comment section below even for just this day :) This story is being made into an actual book and I plan to insert all of your sweet messages in the pages. And this book will be placed in our campus library. Isn't that cool?
> 
> If you'd like to leave a comment, I would be very very ecstatic and grateful, and I will send you my gratitude directly when I reply. Drop your pen names, and they'll go straight into the actual book :)
> 
> And now... enjoy!

 

Silence. Beeping. Then utter blackness.

A pressure from something hard against his lips, pressing and prying his mouth open until something long is scratching against his throat. Silicon, smooth and narrow enough that the movement down his throat causes little to no pain yet is still uncomfortable in the least possible way.

The beeping continues, a vague resounding sound slowly fading into the distance. Numerous muscles in his abdomen cramp all at once and he’s jerking awake, struggling as he shifts around only to be pressed back into the bed, restrained by a pair of persistent arms, and when Loki flutters his eyes open for the very first time after the surgery, he finds out that he cannot see clearly.

His vision blurs around a face. His jaw is held agape by fingers and Loki blinks fast, quickly readjusting to his surroundings. The beeping continues, static and monotone as it is but it falls into deaf ears. When his eyes grow accustomed to the artificial light in the room, he notices Sigyn’s face hovering his own.

Her smile is almost comforting.

“Welcome back, darling.”

Loki also finds out that one of his hands is being held by another person. His head cranes to the side, and right there, squeezing his hand with a familiar smile is Odin as weary though relieved as he looks, obviously exhausted himself even through Loki’s still failing vision.

He caresses Loki's hand and Loki lets him. The weight of Odin's palm against his is just as comforting.

“It’s over now, my son. You’ve done well.”

Out of the blue, it just _clicks._

Loki's eyes widen.

The operation is over. Five estimated hours of lying unconscious on the table under the care of several surgical teams, his chest sliced open, his own heart _removed _,__  and his donor, his own _brother_ , who had to go through a separate operation himself—

Loki is soon overcome with a severe surge of fear. Where is his brother, why is he not in the room after the operation? Did his own operation prove successful? What if he didn’t…  _what if?_

“Thor…” Loki croaks, barely audible, his own voice failing him. His breaths come short at the growing anxiety over his brother’s condition after the surgery, and he squeezes Odin’s hand to get his father’s attention. “Thor… w-where—?”

Odin rushes to his side and brings a hand over Loki’s forehead, gently guiding him back down. Sigyn locks his thighs as a consequence. Loki resists against his father, more than eager to search for answers, but his lower back aches when he tries to sit up, and it's only then that he realizes how much he needs to recover.

_Thor._

Odin rubs Loki’s IV-infused hand before smiling. “He’s on his way, my son.”

Static beeping. Static. _Static_.

Thor made it.

Loki lets out the breath he doesn’t realize he’s been holding and closes his eyes to clear his head from the cruel images of his brother lying unconscious on the table.

He can’t remember anything from the surgery. The hours prior to the operation are still very much clear to him—strolling through the garden, wrestling with his anxiety when Thor began listing his promises, the snow freezing his fingers until he could do nothing but seek for his brother’s comfort.

He does not remember watching Thor change into a hospital gown with Sigyn assisting him. He does not remember Dr. Heimdall returning to the room to bring Thor into the Cardiac ICU to begin the preoperative assessment. Loki does not remember slipping an unspoken wish for luck when Thor is finally wheeled out of the room. He does not remember closing his eyes to think about Thor having his own heart removed before Loki's anesthesia finally takes effect.

Loki does not remember much about the surgery, but as Sigyn runs a hand over the spot below his ribs, he knows that there are tubes infused deep into his flesh, that there will be scars marking his skin with the proof of this battle, marks which Loki will carry around as he finally lives through a normal life at last.

But when Sigyn’s hand brushes past a rather sore area right above his abdomen, Loki figures that perhaps he’s only clinging onto wishful thinking.

“Are you feeling alright, son?” Odin asks when Loki winces. “Do not try to speak, just nod. I was advised to let you rest as much as possible.”

Loki does exactly what he’s told despite the lingering pang of discomfort with the tubes in place. He snaps his attention to the door when a knock erupts from the other side. 

_Please _.__

“That’s your brother,” Sigyn says as if reading his mind with ease. “He woke up in the CICU looking for you, and it was impossible to not take pity, so I asked your doctor to grant you both a single private ward on this floor.”

Loki digests her words. His eyes scan the room and it's only then that he notices just how much space is still available to his left. Intended, rearranged to fit another bed. When Loki inhales sharply, Sigyn breaks into a grin.

“I hope my birthday present isn’t too late.”

Loki could only squeeze her hand in gratitude.

The door opens. A nurse enters with Frigga, bright and relieved as she appears, and behind them is a bed they’re wheeling past the door, attached with two small machines and a full oxygen tank with an elongated tube. Thor is covered with obvious patches over his collarbones, his chin and cheeks swollen and one of his hands infused with two IV drips. The sight of him on the bed looks almost _wrong_ and out of place. He doesn't belong here.

Loki outright  _weeps_.

Thor only smiles when their eyes meet. The illusion is proven effective when Loki eventually forgets about the whole surgery ever taking place and focuses entirely on how _happy_  Thor looks. The nurse finally positions the bed next to Loki’s, and when they’re only a foot away from each other, Thor’s smile widens up close until he’s chuckling softly.

“You look hideous when you cry, Lo.”

The tears don’t stop but Loki manages a weak laugh. Thor reaches out and links their fingers together.

“I’m fine, Loki,” he says. Loki could only frown, but that doesn’t stop the warmth that’s quickly spreading across his chest. “Everything’s alright now.”

****…****

The recovery process is indeed a tiring one. While Loki is successfully gaining strength in his limbs and abdominal area, Thor has yet to manage sitting up on his own without having to clutch the IV stand for support. At some point, the sight of Thor having trouble plagues Loki with guilt every second of the day.

Hours are spent sleeping rather than conversing with each other and taking advantage of the minimal distance of a foot between them. Dr. Heimdall advises a break from talking too much. When Loki grows hungry, which almost doesn’t happen, he’s only being fed with a few spoonfuls of soup. On other days, Dr. Heimdall would suggest protein for a quicker regaining of strength, but the thought of too much food often makes Loki want to vomit. He’s fine with Odin feeding the most decent soup from the cafeteria. Besides, when Frigga arrives at night, she’s always there to reward him with better tasting broth.

Thor becomes insufferable in a matter of hours. He’s groaning and mumbling in his sleep which stirs Loki from his slumber and forces him to shove Thor’s shoulder in the weakest (and gentlest) possible way. Then again, their muscles are still sore, and out of the two of them, it's Loki who's recovering quicker. He understands his brother’s condition quite enough that he doesn’t try to make the situation any harder for them.

Odin tends to them twenty-four seven. Frigga leaves for her hospital duties seeing as she’s the only one currently working to provide for the family but eventually returns to the hospital every night. Hela visits when she can, and Dr. Heimdall is generous enough to drop by and check both of Thor and Loki’s vitals himself instead of sending Sigyn for the task.

Four days fly by in a blur. Those days comprise a session of biopsies for the two of them, followed by post-operative risk assessments to check whether or not the drugs they’ve been prescribed with are proven effective. Loki is slowly gaining enough strength to run trips to the bathroom by himself, but Thor still relies heavily on his catheter to empty his bladder without having to get up. These are just simple things. Things Loki wishes he does not have to see his brother struggle with but still does.

On the eighth day after the surgery, Loki’s appetite returns and Thor regains enough strength in his limbs.

It’s four in the afternoon and they’re strolling through a clear hallway with their walkers to assist them. Some basic yet essential physical therapy to keep their bones working, Dr. Heimdall had once told them. Sigyn is at the nurses’ station at Loki’s rather insistent request for privacy, and is only watching the two from a safe distance.

They’re easily taking leisurely steps side to side, matching each others’ pace without really meaning to.

“It’s strange,” Thor says in the middle of their stroll.

Loki perks up. “What is?”

“My heart… it’s literally beating inside you,” Thor says with a chuckle, shaking his head before shrugging. “I think it’s cool, though, when you think about it.”

Loki doesn’t laugh.

Instead, he halts in his pace and turns to face Thor. For a while, Loki lets himself truly _wonder_ what it must be that’s running in his brother’s head. These past few days have been a testimony enough; Thor is obviously struggling, fighting to get past this sluggish phase of recovering, smiling through the frustration despite obvious lack of patience on his face.

Loki lets himself wonder because right here, Thor still manages to find amusement in a situation that should be anything but _amusing_.

“Do you think you could still play during finals?”

Thor is obviously surprised with the question judging by the look he sends Loki. What it means, Loki doesn't know, but he's sure as hell not prepared to find out.

“To be honest? I’m not so sure anymore,” Thor answers with obvious dismay. Something unpleasant twists in Loki's gut. “The game is still a couple of months away, so there’s that, but my recovery is important to me. Maybe the doctor will clear me for another game, maybe Coulson will rather have me benched just in case, but…. it’s been a long run.” Thor shrugs. “I’m thankful for my experiences in the last three years. A part of me wants to take a break now.”

He can’t be serious.

“If you don’t play…” Loki begins, disbelieving. “Thor, it’s your last championship.”

“No, it’s not.” Thor lifts a brow. There's a smile ghosting over his face. “The team won last season, and I was there when they did. There’s really nothing to lose now if I don’t play before graduating.”

Loki says nothing to counter that. If Thor doesn’t regain full strength by the day he needs to show up on the field to play, Loki might just fall into the repetitive cycle of feeling responsible for everything that’s happening to his brother. He hangs his head low and continues his pace behind his walker. Thor jabs a fist into Loki’s side.

“Stop brooding,” he says with an obnoxiously smug grin that Loki would be very much delighted to slap off his face. “Why don’t I race you back to our room?”

Though he still grows weary after an ample amount of moving, Loki does not _ever_  back down from an obvious challenge. “Oh no, you won’t, asshole.”

With enough determination, Loki takes easy but careful, _and_  longer strides across the floor with the help of his walker. Joke's on Thor, he actually has the disadvantage in the race for weighting four pounds heavier than Loki. In fact, he’s already trailing a good three feet behind while Loki is now rounding a corner close to their ward.

“The fuck, Loki?” Thor calls after him. Loki breaks into a grin despite his jaw aching. “You’re cheating!”

“I am _not_!”

Thor’s playful groan sounds far more distant now. “Oh, just you wait when we get back!”

Loki laughs, loud and bright as the sound of his own merriment echoes through the empty hallway. For the very first time in a long while, he’s utterly and genuinely happy, his breaths coming out in short puffs in between the laughter he doesn’t try to stifle. His heart races in his chest but this time it’s from the exhilaration instead of fear, and Loki grins when he remembers that it’s _Thor’s_  heart beating inside his chest.

****…****

Three months post-operation, and things have changed significantly.

Loki has settled on finishing the sophomore year with online classes as advised by his cardiologist. He’s eating enough and functioning as expected, making good use of his time at home by devouring the rest of his fictional collection while also striving to receive the highest marks in his classes. He’s free to do as he pleases at home, but when he’s out and about in the neighborhood, his wheelchair is always there to assist him.

Meanwhile, Thor is kicking back into his classes for the Spring semester. He doesn’t step on the field for two whole months after the operation, but when there’s only a month away from football finals against the Michigan State Spartans, Coulson allows him a few drills every afternoon. Dr. Heimdall has made sure to discuss with Thor’s transplant coordinator to understand where Thor’s limitations end, and has made it very clear that he can’t overwork himself for more than two hours without breaks. 

So when the jocks from Michigan fly out to Georgia on the day of the awaited game, Thor is buzzing with anticipation. Fandral and Volstagg are ecstatic to have him back on the field, and they let him know as much. Thor’s whole family will be watching the game from the bleachers. It’s his final game, the most important game he’ll ever play in college. Coulson had been wrong before. This… _this_  is the final gold on the road.

“Let’s win this,” Thor yells into Fandral’s ear in between the screams of the crowd.

The quarterback flashes him with his dashing grin as he claps Thor's shoulder. “You bet.”

The team falls into their positions in the defence line. Coulson steps aside to keep track of every step the players make, and when the referee’s whistle finally goes off, Thor takes a seat on the bench and watches the game play out.

He’s not playing until the fourth quarter at Dr. Heimdall’s request.

The first quarter leads up to an obvious surrender to the Spartans. Just like the Alabama Roosters, the guys are frustratingly quick when it comes to passing the football. The Panthers' defense line keeps up with the momentum of the game by blocking as many players as they can, but in the end, the Spartans still manage a good few touchdowns.

Thor rises in his seat to scan the whole field. The second quarter ends, allowing the Panthers to regroup and leading the score using a brand new set of tactics from Coulson’s instructions. At the third quarter, however, they lose the ball again. The Spartans are making up for the scores they’ve lost and are now wrapping the third quarter up with two complete touchdowns.

The clock stops and the scoreboard clears before emerging with a flashing  _16-22_ in favor of the Spartans.

“Thor!” Coulson runs to him half-way into the fourth quarter during a time-out. “Put your helmet on. You’re up.”

Thor could only grin once he finally rises from the benches.

The crowd erupts in a new wave of screams when Thor steps onto the field. They must have noticed the missing player finally joining in the last few minutes of the game. They’re all synchronized notes in Thor’s ears. When the whistle goes off and the ball is in his possession, Thor surrenders himself to the raging excitement of the crowd and lays his eyes on the gold.

The final touchdown is only breaths away, but there are guys chasing his tail so Thor braces himself for a powered lunge towards Volstagg’s direction, throws the ball and watches his friend secure it into his chest before Thor is falling, tackled into the dirt by two bodies in maroon jerseys.

Just six seconds later, a whistle goes off. The sudden outburst of the crowd fills the whole arena with a mantra of  _Panthers._  Thor laughs into the dirt in triumph when he realizes that Volstagg has gone for the winning touchdown.

Fourth championship game in the last four years, and they’ve won again.

Coulson calls for a night dedicated to celebrating. Thor agrees to catch up with the guys after meeting his parents outside the stadium but before he does so, he runs a trip toward the locker rooms to retrieve his bag and other belongings. It's only a short distance. A huge number of people have already fled out of the stadium and are now returning to their assigned buses. He’s certain that no one would be in the locker rooms now.

That is until he runs into Sif along with Loki himself who is seated on the wheelchair. There’s a bouquet of yellow poppies in Loki’s hands and Thor snorts loudly upon seeing it.

“I thought it would be funny,” Loki explains with a shrug, holding the flowers up, “considering you only played in the last five minutes.”

Thor approaches the pair and takes the bouquet from Loki with a grateful smile.

“Best five minutes in my life,” he says, then shoots a smile in Sif’s direction, who’s never left his brother alone during the whole process of Loki’s recovery. It’s nice to know that she’s still accompanying his brother whenever she can. Thor can’t even begin to explain how grateful he is for her unwavering support. “Thanks for coming tonight, Sif.”

And Sif only shrugs. “It’s nice watching you guys fall into the dirt sometimes. Loki would even agree with me.”

“Oh, I definitely would.”

Thor chuckles in amusement, nodding at Sif and gesturing at the wheelchair. “I’ll take him from here.”

Sif agrees despite her obvious reluctance for which Thor is silently grateful. She leaves them both with one last wave before she’s taking the route towards the exit. Thor returns the bouquet on Loki’s lap, slips behind the wheelchair and begins pushing. They stroll through the now deserted stadium in comfortable silence, listening, silently basking in the stadium lights.

“I remember the first time I ever watched your game,” Loki says out of nowhere.

“Last season?”

“Last season,” Loki confirms, pausing. “I left right after the second quarter.”

Thor laughs fondly, remembering the annoyed expression Loki had sported that night before his brother disappeared entirely. “Didn’t know you’d be so bored from watching us win.”

“Oh, give yourself a little credit. I’m not exactly into sports myself.”

“Wow, I never noticed.”

Loki snorts from below and Thor glances down to catch his brother shaking his head. The air tonight is colder despite already being in the middle of summer, and as he listens to Loki shiver from the breeze that sweeps past them, Thor starts to act from muscle memory. He halts in their tracks and removes his varsity jacket to drape it cover Loki’s shoulders. His brother whispers a word of thanks, and they continue to set out towards the bleachers.

“So what happens now?” Loki asks him, turning to face Thor. Thor plops on the bottom bleacher and scans the fifty-three yards of grass in front of him.

“Now?” He sighs and stares straight ahead, growing overwhelmed by the question. Thor wrings his hands out of habit. “Now the future continues to scare me.”

Loki gapes beside him.

“You’ve just won your fourth championship. You’re graduating from college in two weeks,” he says flatly. “Surely you’ve come up with _other_  long term plans aside from those.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“Unbelievable. Mom would be weeping in joy.”

Thor smiles despite himself. “That’s… quite upsetting, don’t you think?”

“Oh, snap out of it, I was only poking fun.”

Loki crosses his arms and turns his head to study the empty field. Thor drinks in the aftermath of the game, ignoring the little voice at the back of his head that's luring him into thinking that everything he sees now isn't real. Confetti lies scattered over the turf in all different colors, painting over the green with a layer of the Panthers’ victory. After a moment, Loki sighs quietly beside him and eventually says, “You know she’ll support whatever decision we’ll make.”

“And dad too.”

“And dad too,” echoes Loki.

That’s a reassurance enough. Although tomorrow is another step toward the future he _will_  embark upon someday, the fear which Thor has been bottling inside himself has now begun dissipating. The ghost of his worries may not leave him just yet, but they’re definitely giving him a lot more room to actually _think_ about his own path.

Winning tonight is only another goal he’s managed to cross out from his list. Next stop is his graduation, and after that, he’s not so sure anymore. And though there are so many variables in the equation, so many opportunities to grasp and so many chances to make, Thor lets himself forget every single worry just for a night and  _breathes._

Tonight he loses himself in the wind, comes down from the high of victory, and smiles at the encouragement across Loki’s face.

“I wouldn’t worry, Lo. I feel like everything’s going to work out fine.”

Surprisingly, Thor actually means it.

****…****

He’s back in the stadium two weeks later. This time though, Thor is dressed in the deep blue of his graduation gown instead of his shoulder pads.

“It’s nice to sit out in the front for a change,” Volstagg muses to his left. They’ve both been given seats out on the front alongside the other awardees so that there wouldn’t be much of a distance to cross once their names are called by the speaker. Their current spot apparently offers a great view of the stadium, which is occupied by families and friends of their fellow graduates. Thor grins in response, hardly containing his nerves.

“Wait until you get called up on stage and forget your whole speech.”

Volstagg chuckles and elbows him in the hip. “Have some faith in me, my friend.”

The ceremony resumes. A wave of applause replaces the chattering in the stadium as Coach Coulson, styled in his remarkable uniform, climbs up the platform and positions himself behind the podium for his speech. Another breath and his voice washes over the awaiting audience.

“Tonight,” he begins, “we commend a number of people for their excellence and impeccable service to GSU. We recognize the trace of their footprints, their destinations, and applaud them for their hard work and unrelenting determination.”

On his seat, Thor could only plaster his hands over his thighs. The crowd is dead silent, an indication that a good number of ears is indeed paying attention to whatever Coulson is about to say. At some point, Thor almost finds the silence discomforting.

Coulson resumes speaking.

“In the past seven years, I’ve had the honor to coach the Panthers through a number of games against our neighboring teams. And each night a team aims for the winning touchdown, I look toward the guys and realize how proud I am to see them grow on the field in times of both failure _and_ triumph. And in the past four years, the Panthers have tasted victory in the Nationals, and one of the guys in the team has been there every step of the way, leading GSU to the top until we’ve managed to earn a streak of _four_ championships back to back.”

A howling erupts from the crowd, male voices being the most prominent. It grows loud enough to interrupt Coulson before he’s clearing his throat and watching over the crowd with a grin on his face.

“Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Phil Coulson, football coach of the Georgia State Panthers, and I am here to honor the Most Valuable Player from the senior class of 2019…” One pause, his eyes flickering to the crowd and saying, “Thor Odinson.”

The crowd breaks into a massive round of applause.

Volstagg throws an arm and claps Thor’s shoulder. Thor rises from his seat, his graduation gown flying behind his legs from the wind, keeping his chin up as he crosses the turf and approaches the stage, basking in the wave of screams in the stadium.

It’s Professor Selvig who greets him just before Thor reaches the podium, and he’s grinning ear-to-ear as he shakes Thor’s hand and lends him the golden award.

“Congratulations, kid. You have my respect.”

Thor slips a word of gratitude before replacing Coulson’s position behind the microphone, making sure to nod in the direction of his coach to display his own appreciation before he begins his speech.

Coulson nods at him in return.

“Wow,” Thor muses into the microphone, slightly breathless as he takes in the sight of the whole crowd. These college students, all dressed in blue with their caps tilted in all different directions... these people will all be taking the huge leap just like him. “It’s been a long journey, hasn’t it?”

He seizes the chance to thank his coach and the guys from the team—Fandral who will be the one to graduate next year, along with Volstagg who will be awarded for best defensive player right after this moment. Thor thanks the whole administration for supporting the Panthers’ journey, for dealing with the training equipment and all the plane tickets needed for the games they’ve played before. He sends his gratitude to Professor Selvig, a constant force behind his achievement. Without him, Thor probably wouldn’t have been encouraged to direct his focus to both academics _and_  football. The man has certainly done a lot for him in the recent years. Thor makes sure to give him the credit he deserves.

He dedicates his award to his family, his heart swelling as he recalls the amount of support he’s gotten from Frigga and Odin. They’re seated on the bleachers closest to the stage. One flicker of his eyes and Thor spots his own brother watching him, seated next to Odin and Sif.

Earnest pride looks weird on Loki's face, but his brother is certainly sporting it well.

“Before I end my speech,” Thor continues, “I’d like to dedicate this award to the one person who has _committedly_ shoved my head into books and football training when I started spiraling down some time during this year… my brother.”

The crowd laughs. Thor toys with the award in his hands, catching Loki’s gaze.

“Loki,” he starts with a warm chuckle, “thank you for bringing out the best me. I’ll probably never be as smart as you, but because of your well-versed words of wisdom that come with a session of half-assed insults,” the crowd laughs again and Thor couldn’t help but join, “I strive to become a better person every day. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

Among the thousand faces in the stadium, it’s Loki’s startled smile that warms Thor’s chest the most.

“Georgia State University,” Thor says into the microphone, adrenaline coursing through his veins, “thank you... for _everything_.”

Rows of people rise from their seats to applaud him, and with one last glance towards the crowd, Thor descends the platform and braces himself for the unknown future.

****…** **

Loki is tipping on the shoreline, frozen on the sand that is slowly swallowing his feet inch by inch. The waves are loud, _too_  loud, too near, and he wants to escape before they could come closer to his toes, to lock himself inside the beach house and skip dinner if it means not hearing the loud crash of the waves. He _never_ should have come in the first place, and he _never_ should have agreed to let Thor drag him towards the water.

And Thor, as if reading the blatant hesitance in Loki’s silence, crooks his head to the side and sighs for the umpteenth time that afternoon. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“ _No_. I promised you I would.”

See, there’s only one problem here: Loki is _not_  a coward.

He’s not a coward, and he’s not going to chicken out of the _only_  chance he’s ever going to get to visit the beach this year. After all, there’s not a lot of time between reading and classes for another potential trip to the beach. Frigga had practically purchased Loki a brand new collection of swimming trunks days prior to the getaway, saying something about how he should ‘look forward to travelling’ in the future, and Odin had taken two weeks off from his business to accompany his family during the trip, which is why Loki should stop wimping out and just step into the goddamn _water _.__

“You didn’t promise me anything, you know?”

“Well, it doesn’t matter now, does it?” Loki snaps impatiently. “Hurry up, Thor. Let’s just get this over with.”

Thor chuckles and shakes his head, totally taking the piss. It only makes Loki forget that his toes are already being submerged into the thin layer of water that has climbed up towards the sand. Thor continues to stare, and god knows what the idiot is thinking, but Loki doesn’t pay his brother any mind. The water is cold around his feet and to Loki's surprise… he actually doesn’t feel any different.

“Lo,” Thor says after a while. Loki looks up to see his brother extending a hand. To offer assistance, Loki guesses with a scoff. What an absolutely pathetic and embarrassing thing to agree upon. With one last shudder, Loki takes it anyway and allows Thor to drag him further into the water.

The first couple of inches of water engulfs Loki’s ankles, and they’re cold against his skin but Thor’s hand is warmer against his. They walk further into the ocean until the water is practically leveled with Loki’s hips. The current is calm enough that he doesn’t lose his balance underwater where the uncontrolled motion continues to sweep him off his feet. But then sweat trickles down his neck. A breeze brushing past his cheek, the piercing sound of the seagulls before their flight floating into the silence over the crashing waves. Loki is quickly noticing every detail of the scene, never mind the curl of water that’s quickly building up towards them as it approaches the shore where it would finally crash.

“Let’s go back,” Loki rushes out at the sight of the growing wave, more paranoid than ever. He tugs himself free from Thor’s grip. “The current’s growing stronger, Thor. This was a terrible—”

“No, wait!”

All of a sudden, Loki is driven forward from the water that crashes over his back, tugging him underneath where could feel nothing but the coldness against his bare skin. Sounds are muffled by the water as they enter his ears, his limbs desperately cutting through the current in hopes of resurfacing but his arms are uncoordinated, his legs failing him just as quick. His eyes burn but Loki does not dare open them while he’s still underneath. The grains of sand, the faint shapes of the rocks by his foot, the glow of the sun far into the horizon… they all vanish behind the white that masks Loki's vision.

One laboured breath, and he’s being pulled back into the surface by a familiar pair of arms.

“Loki.” His head is immediately shoved into Thor’s neck. They’ve both resurfaced and have floated closer to the shore, but the wind that blankets Loki’s shoulder is agonizing enough that it renders him into a shivering mess against Thor’s chest. “Loki, can you breathe?”

In another life, the feat of breathing might just seem out of the ordinary. A simple ability too difficult for Loki to execute, a curse that would have him struggling in every possibly way. But now, as he throws his own arms around Thor’s shoulders to search for an anchor, for comfort, for a reassurance, for _anything_ … Loki is lucky enough that he could nod his head against Thor’s neck to say _yes _,__  he could breathe.

His own fear subsides when Thor encourages him to watch the water. Loki does so despite his reluctance, but he soon finds out that they’re no longer close to the area that would guarantee them another round of escaping the waves. Where they are now is safe and closer to the shore. Loki _could_  pull away and run at this very moment, head indoors before the night even crawls, but he does none of that.

Instead, he stays. While there are voices in his head screaming at him to heed caution while he’s in the very specific place of the accident in his childhood, Loki opens his eyes and his own heart to the rest of the world and focuses on the chill from the water around his knees.

The ocean will soon grow familiar to him one day. And one day, Loki will look forward to visiting this place again.

“That wasn’t so bad,” Thor says with a chuckle, effectively breaking Loki from his trance. The moment is gone all too soon.

But when Loki actually turns to his side to share his own piece of retorts, the words die on his tongue. He watches the side of Thor’s face where the sunlight hits his tanned skin in all the right angles, covering him in another glow that matches the warmth across his smile while his eyes are fixated somewhere across the ocean. In between the loud crash of waves and his own heart hammering inside his chest, Loki stares at his own brother and realizes that there is _no one_ , no one else worthy enough, no one else Loki would allow to _save_  him.

The realization hits him too hard that he’s forced to direct his eyes to the evident scar over Thor’s left breast. A reminder of the battle they never would have been able to fight alone. A solid evidence of Thor’s sacrifice and Loki’s willingness to admit that he _cares_ for his brother so much that he would not risk seeing Thor lay down his own life for him.

While Thor is still occupied with the view, Loki takes the chance to reach out and anchor himself to Thor’s arm. The words he wishes to say don’t come, but they ring out inside Loki’s head as a static sound as he stares at the side of Thor’s face.

_Thank you for saving me._

“Boys!” comes Frigga’s voice from a distance. Loki whirls around and sees her standing beside his smiling father as they watch from the sand. “We’ve made dinner!”

“We’ll be right up!” Thor calls back, and next to him, Loki hears the faint growl of Thor’s stomach. “Come on, Lo. I’m starving.”

Mischief glints across Loki’s eyes. “You are?”

“I am.” Thor is most utterly puzzled. Ah, what a sight to relish in. Loki almost feels bad to delay their dinner for a while.

“Oh,” he says with a chuckle, obviously enjoying himself. “I don’t think so.”

The confused expression across Thor’s features is swept away by the splash of water Loki hurls into his direction. By instinct, Loki dashes out of the water to distance himself from Thor’s proximity as far as possible, but Thor is indeed a great runner too, and the moment Loki thinks he’s able to evade his brother’s grip, he’s already being tackled to the sand before he’s soon trapped underneath Thor’s weight.

“You little shit!” comes Thor’s frustrated voice. “The water burns, you know! There's salt in there, Lo. _Salt._ ”

Loki laughs until he thinks he might be suffocating, and the more he does, the more he realizes how absurd it once felt to actually fear the idea of not being able to breathe.

But right now, with his brother beside him in the place where his childhood introduced him a constant fear and a battle like no other, Loki only laughs to his heart's content and finally finds peace with the waves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to every single one of you who has left comments, kudos, bookmarked my fic, recced my fic, and shared it online. Thank you, my soul is forever grateful. I cannot be happier to have you guys by my side as I bring an end to this journey.
> 
> You guys... you made this whole writing process worth it. So thank you. I will always cherish the memories.
> 
> I'm [@shattered-loki](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/shattered-loki) on tumblr, and if you'd like to see my artwork for this fic, go check my blog or flip back to the first chapter.
> 
> ALSO! I might come back to this to write an alternate ending, which is actually self-indulgent SO hmm let's just see :)
> 
> I would love to hear from you guys in the comment section :)

**Author's Note:**

> Please do tell me what you think! I would really love to hear your opinions. Kudos and feedback will be highly appreciated :)
> 
> Come find me as [@shattered-loki](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/shattered-loki) on tumblr for updates!! 
> 
> Thank you for reading! <3


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